Santa Tell Me
by supercommpromises
Summary: Christmas hasn't been kind to Eleven Hopper for many years. Seeking a way to forget all her troubles, she ends up alone in a bar on Christmas Eve, not expecting to find something more than just a drink. (AU, modern day, CHRISTMAS, strangers, aged up, angsty, smut, one night stand turns into more)
1. Chapter 1

**_Hello, all._**

 ** _Yes there was a username change. No, it doesn't matter what it was before. I just decided that since I only write Mileven/Stranger Things, I wanted a username that reflected that. But it's still me._**

 ** _This will be at least three chapters long and should be done by Christmas. I won't make any promises however, since I'm not sure how busy I'll be. But I have a good headstart on the next chapters so I'm choosing to be optimistic. Clearly this was inspired by Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande which is such a bop that I decided writing an angsty El at Christmas. I hope you like it and it puts you in the Christmas spirit!_**

 ** _This story is for Kayla, the only person in the whole entire world who might just love Mileven more than I do. Happy birthday, you beautiful human, I'm glad to call you friend and I hope you get another year of love and Mileven!_**

* * *

The bar was decorated beautifully for being so small. Tiny trees covered with tinsel and ornaments sat at either end of the counter, multicolored lights strung around the entire interior, baubles and ornaments hanging from the ceiling and off of chairs and shelves. Crystal snowflakes were hung too, reflecting the lights like mini disco balls, each table topped with a reindeer or a candy cane or a snowman.

There was no denying it—It was Christmastime.

Eleven winced as she walked in, trying to pretend like she didn't hear the dubstep version of "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" or see the crowd of extremely drunk people dressed in ugly sweaters attempting to dance to it. She made a beeline for the bar, spotting an empty tinsel-wrapped stool and quickly placing herself on it.

The place was stupidly busy considering it was December twenty-fourth. Christmas Eve. Sure, Chicago was always bustling but surely there were better things to do than sit in some bar on Christmas Eve sipping boozy eggnog and cider? Dancing to DMX's Christmas album with strangers? Wearing Santa hats and antlers?

And yet she found herself sitting on a tinsel-covered stool, crossing her legs beneath her red, crushed-velvet slip dress and setting her sequin clutch on the counter so she could grab her debit card and ID out of it. Despite being twenty-fucking-six, she still had the height and facial features of a twelve year-old and was _always_ carded. The bartender was down at the other end almost out of sight and she bit her lip, sitting back and tapping the plastic cards against the counter, bored or annoyed or sad—who knew? She sure didn't know.

And she didn't want to think about it. That's why she was here.

The bartender was making his way down the bar, close enough for her lean around the other patrons to try and get his attention, her cards prominently displayed. He was handing a drink to someone and she could only see his profile, a prominent nose and strong jawline, the carved cheekbone accented by the dim lighting. Right then he turned, their eyes catching, and she felt herself gasp.

He was ridiculously attractive, plush red lips and dark eyes, defined brows and milky, pale skin, smattered with soft freckles that looked perfectly kissable. Eleven swallowed heavily as he made his way down to her, his dark hair bobbing as he ran a hand through it, pushing it out of his face, a shiver running down her body.

She felt frozen, unable to do anything but stare as the handsome man smiled warmly at her, setting an elbow on the bar. He leaned forward, opening his mouth and—

A man wearing reindeer antlers and a light up sweater pushed up right next to her, almost shoving her off of her stool. She yelped and managed to cling to the sticky countertop, her debit card flying out of her hands and hitting the bartender right in the chest before falling to the floor.

"Yeah, I need two more—" Reindeer man started to say.

The bartender frowned and shook his head, "No, man, you get to wait like everyone else."

"But—"

"And you're lucky I don't have you thrown out for damn near assaulting this woman who's been patiently waiting," he continued, looking pissed, not taking it. "I get you want a drink and think you're special, but you don't get to fucking smack into people. Get out of here."

Reindeer man looked like he was going to argue but then took a deep breath and stalked away from the bar, muttering something under his breath. Eleven gaped for a second, trying to process the drama she'd been rather abruptly dragged into. The bartender ducked down and then reappeared, holding her card, looking down at it for a second and then back at her.

"Jane, huh? You okay?" He offered a sympathetic smile that had her blushing.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine—" She paused, trying to shake off the shock of almost wiping out but unable to rid herself of nerves. "Thanks. And I go by Eleven, um, if you don't mind. It's a nickname."

"Sounds like the kind of nickname with a story…" he baited, eyebrows raised.

Eleven hesitated, unsure if that was something she wanted to share, and then glanced down the bar, noticing how many other people were waiting for drinks. His eyes followed her gaze and he nodded.

"Okay, how about I get you whatever you want on the house since you just survived being assaulted, and when Annie gets here to help me with this crazy rush, you tell me your interesting story?" He played with her card in his hands, looking fascinated but clearly not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "And I'm saying, top shelf. Whatever you want."

She bit her lip again, considering her options.

There was no doubt she wanted to keep up a conversation with the devastatingly handsome man in front of her, but it was Christmas and he was a bartender and there was no point. Nothing good could come out of it. If the past had taught her anything, it was that falling for guys and Christmas could only end in pain.

But fuck he was hot.

"Mmm," she said thoughtfully, resting her chin in her palm, eyes sparkling. "You have anything special you can make? Surprise me."

He grinned widely, pleased, and nodded thoughtfully. "Any limitations?"

"No bourbon. Or licorice flavored things…" she said slowly, "oh, and nothing Christmassy, please."

At that his eyebrow raised, but he said nothing, spinning on his heel and reaching for a mug and some bottles of liquor. She watched, fascinated, as he buzzed around, grabbing a bag of marshmallows and getting hot water from the coffee maker. At one point a blowtorch appeared and she couldn't help but frown, slightly concerned. After about five minutes he walked back over to her, setting his spectacular creation down.

The mug was oversized and full of hot chocolate, she assumed, the entire top was _covered_ in marshmallows. Tiny teddy grahams were situated in the mountain of 'mallow, hot tubbing in a booze-filled concoction that was toasted to perfection.

It was adorable and looked actually tasty and she couldn't help but grin up at him, grateful he hadn't given her some sexual drink or been weird and gross. He wasn't just a pretty face, he seemed to be charming instead and she laughed as he theatrically stuck a straw into the drink and pushed towards her, his smile at her apparent amusement somewhere between relieved and happy.

"Worthy of a story?"

"Mmm, I don't know, it's kind of Christmassy…" she pretended to look uninterested but when his face fell she quickly shook her head, laughing. "No, no, I'm kidding. I love hot chocolate. It's perfect. You can have the story once your rush is done. It'll take me awhile to finish this anyways."

He perked back up immediately. "Oh _sweet_. Cool. Awesome."

"Yes, to all of those," she smiled back.

For a moment they just stared at each other and then someone further down the bar cleared their throat pointedly and both snapped out of it. He held his hand out.

"I'm Mike, by the way—" Another person cleared their throat impatiently and he took a step away, saluting her. "I'll be back later for you, El."

She blinked at the unexpected—nickname? But it was kind of cute. Her mom used to call her Ellie sometimes. A strange flush filled her cheeks and she smiled down at her drink, quickly taking a sip and marveling at how smooth it was. Chocolatey and sweet but _definitely_ boozy, tequila she was pretty sure. She hadn't been expecting a hot drink, but after the first sip she realized she'd been chilly, letting the alcohol and heat seep into her chest and then the rest of her body, muscles relaxing.

It was just what she'd needed, the drink and the friendliness. She'd come to try and forget the past, to not think about Christmas—which was impossible, she knew, but it had been worth a try. Chicago was home, sure, but it had been feeling more and more lonely the past few years. Turning twenty-six had been rough, sitting in her kitchen with a cupcake her boss had sent her, a single candle stuck into it.

The only thing that kept her going was her job as a child therapist. Helping kids in the foster system work through their problems, seeing them grow and get better, it filled her heart. She'd suffered her own losses as a child and being able to help children the way she'd needed to be helped back then… it kept her alive.

But it seemed like the losses could only keep rolling in. And she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

It didn't help that she was terrible at making friends. And worst at keeping them. As much as she liked people, they just didn't seem to like _her_. Since she mostly worked with children, work friends were distant, and talking to strangers held little appeal. Usually.

Her eyes drifted down to Mike, who was chatting easily as he mixed up a drink for a pretty blonde in an icy-blue dress. Eleven narrowed her eyes, unable to help but a feel a sting of hurt. Did he chat and talk to every pretty girl at his bar?

 _Of course he does,_ she whispered to herself, _that's his whole job_.

The realization that he wasn't actually interested so much as trying to make a good tip hit her and she couldn't help but frown, slurping at her hot chocolate which was already halfway gone. Of course he flirted and smiled at everyone. That's what being a bartender was. You listened to your patrons and told them what they wanted to hear. And she'd needed someone to show interest so he had.

"Hey, you still doing okay?"

She looked up and Mike was there, a slight crease between his brows the only thing that indicated he was worried. Somehow she managed a smile, taking another sip of her drink. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?" He licked his lips. "Annie should be here any minute—" Just then a brunette wearing a Santa hat came around the corner and he relaxed a bit. "Awesome, she's here. Give me five more minutes and I'll be back for my prize!" He shot a grin over his shoulder at her as he walked over to Annie and the two had a quick conversation before diving back into the fray.

Eleven watched as they mixed up drinks, handing them to waiting customers and taking cards, a well-oiled machine. It was satisfying to watch and she tried to relax. Maybe he really was interested… or maybe it was too good to be true. A hot guy interested on her? On Christmas Eve of all days? There couldn't be more warning bells going off.

But, god, it's not like she had anything better to do than let a cute bartender know about her dumb nickname. And he made good drinks. And it was better than sitting in her empty apartment on Christmas Eve all alone, thinking about her mom and dad or her last four failed relationships and just how unlovable she was.

No, this was _definitely_ better.

The rush died down and she was the only sitting at the bar, the occasional person walking up but the crowd dispersed. It was getting later and the dance floor was full as the tables emptied. They were reaching the "everybody's drunk" stage and Eleven realized she was feeling pretty tipsy too, the hot chocolate stronger than she'd expected. It was delightful, feeling so calm, and she decided that she could wait to talk to Mike.

Mike was nice. And hot as fuck.

As much as she didn't want to admit to being drunk _and_ horny, she was enough of an adult to acknowledge that the cute bartender, with his black vest and dark eyes, made her want to lose her panties. Which was also not a wise thought, but she'd reached a point where she no longer cared what was wise and what wasn't.

She wanted to talk to him some more and signaled him over, pushing her empty mug forward as he walked over. He smiled and she _felt_ herself get wet. Jesus.

"You want another?"

"No… maybe something else?" She felt comfortably tipsy and wanted to keep it going so she didn't chicken out talking to him. "Did I read somewhere you had mulled wine?"

"Ooh, yeah but… isn't that kind of Christmassy?" he teased.

"Customer is always right! Don't make me forget to tip you," she shot back, head tilted cockily, red lips smirking.

"Alright alright, one mulled wine." He overdramatically pulled out a wine glass and proceeded to fill it full of the red liquid, staggering back over to her. "But not Christmas mulled wine. Just regular mulled wine."

He set it in front of her with a flourish and she smothered a laugh at his antics.

"Now," he said, leaning cozily against the counter across from her, relaxing now that the bar wasn't bustling and his coworker was there. "Is the mysterious woman in red who hates Christmas going to tell me my story or do I have to bribe her with another free drink?"

"You don't seem big on Christmas either," she protested, gesturing to his plain black vest over an open-collared plainer white shirt. "I mean, you're dressed more Han Solo than Kris Kringle! No tinsel or anything."

He lit up, clearly pleased despite her intended jab. "Ah, god bless you," he beamed. "Han Solo, wow, what a compliment. Does that means you're Star Wars savvy?"

"Who _isn't_? It's like one of the greatest stories of all time," she waved her hand dismissively. "But even Annie over there has a santa hat, so why aren't you so jolly?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me your story," he offered before grinning again, reaching up to smooth his hair. "You really think I look like Han Solo?"

She snorted into her wine. "Yeah, but like a _hot_ Han Solo."

Mike froze, hand still in his hair, eyes widening and Eleven felt her face heat up. She set down her glass, knowing there was no good way to recover from her blunder. Yeah, it was the truth, he was way hotter to her than the traditional, classic Han Solo, even though he was considerably slimmer and paler. But she didn't need to say that _out loud_. Now he probably thought she was some horny weirdo who just wanted to get laid. Which wasn't totally wrong but it's not like she screwed random guys for fun… he was just exceptionally pretty and the thought of him gasping as she ground herself against him was ridiculously appealing.

 _Quit it_ , she snapped at herself.

Shame baked her face and she stared down at the counter. God she couldn't even keep her dirty thoughts away for five minutes. Maybe she should finish her wine and leave. Leave the poor man alone.

"So…" Mike sounded thoughtful but she couldn't make herself meet his gaze. "You're telling me you don't think Harrison Ford is hot? Because that's _actually_ crazy. I mean, I prefer women, but I won't stand here and say that Harrison Ford isn't hot. He's like… a total babe."

Eleven couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, a full on pig-snort-laugh leaving her drunken mouth, and she had to set her wine glass back down to keep from spilling. Mike reacted to her laughter with his own, immediately easing the mood back into the flirty comfort it had been before. It took her a few moments to calm down, covering her mouth with her hand to try and smother the last of her laughter.

"You're making me think I should start doing stand up comedy," he beamed.

"Please do, I'll be there every night."

She grinned at him and he grinned back and they were two grinning idiots but somehow it felt right. He was the one who broke the moment, glancing down at their hands, resting against the glimmering countertop, scattered with red and green confetti.

"So… do I get the story of your name?"

"Oh, right," she blinked, coming out of her daze. Setting her wine down, she let her mind wander to the memory, the one that held the secret to her name. "It's kind of dumb but…" She took a deep breath, smiling softly as the memories flooded in. "When I was like four, my parents took me to the zoo. I loved animals, I had stuffed lions and bears and turtles… my own personal zoo piled on my bed. So I was _so_ excited. But I was kind of behind on speech and when we got there I could only kind of say what they were. And there were elephants, my dad put me up on his shoulders so I could see them…"

Her heart ached, remembering that golden day.

"And I couldn't say 'elephant', it came out as 'eleven' and my dad thought it was the cutest thing so he started calling me Eleven and my mom did too but it was kind of our special thing… he died five year laters. From lung cancer." She felt her throat close up a bit, the pain still so vivid, pausing to close her eyes and take a deep breath, steadying herself. "After that I didn't want to be called Jane. So I've been Eleven and it just feels right… like maybe a little piece of him is still here."

Mike sucked in a breath, face puckered, like he could feel her pain. "I'm so sorry, El."

"El?" She couldn't help but notice that he'd called her that again.

His face flushed that lovely red and he ducked his head. "Sorry, I have this weird habit of giving people nicknames." He frowned at himself. "Even if they already have nicknames. I'll try and stick to Eleven, sorry."

"No, I don't mind," she assured him. "Mama used to call me Ellie sometimes. She thought Eleven was kind of a weird thing to be called."

"Used to…?"

"After my dad died… my mom struggled to keep a job that could support us. She ended up marrying this total _piece of shit_ ," she huffed, then , "but he paid the bills and didn't ask for too much. At least, not from me. But Mama… she suffered. It was a lot of psychological abuse that I didn't even know was happening and when I was fifteen, she—she tried to kill herself."

"Oh shit," Mike breathed.

"It didn't work, but she was—was strung up long enough that her brain was without oxygen for too long and now…" Eleven flicked a piece of confetti, feeling her chest tighten like it always did at the thought of Mama, sitting in her chair, staring listlessly at the TV, day after day. "She's basically a vegetable. I still visit her but she doesn't know I'm there. She doesn't know anything anymore."

"El, fuck, I—" Both of his hands found hers, warm and gentle, squeezing in comfort. His dark eyes were full sadness, as if his heart was breaking for her. "I'm so fucking sorry. That's so much to lose."

Everything felt far away, the tunnel of grief and pain a black hole that sucked her in. It had been so many years, so much sorrow for so long, so much _crying_ … she had no tears left to cry. Part of her knew neither of her parents would want her to spend so much time crying over them, she could almost hear her dad's gruff voice telling her to stop being stupid and to cheer up. She took a deep, shuddering breath, letting the sting of grief fade, the warmth from Mike's hands helping to ground her. Slowly her senses came back to her, first her hands, then her elbows pressed against the chilly countertop. The smell of sweaty patrons and her wine in her glass filled her nose, the beat of a remixed "Let It Snow" thumping up her stool, Frank Sinatra's voice singing merrily.

And the sight of Mike's dark eyes, staring into hers, brow pinched in worry as he squeezed her hands again. His handsome face was mere inches away, his breath warm on her cheek, and it took all her self-control to keep from pushing herself the rest of the way across the counter and kissing him.

Maybe it was weird to want makeout with a hot guy immediately after thinking about your dead parents, but he was so kind and thoughtful, somehow knowing exactly what to do to make her feel better.

And, fuck, his lips looked so red and delicious and perfect. She wondered what it would be like to sink her teeth into them, to hear him groan and moan her name against her mouth. Her legs tensed, pressing her thighs together, and she took a deep breath, eyes fixated on his lips.

"Mike!"

El jumped back and Mike seemed just as startled, letting go of her hands and leaning away. It was Annie, the other bartender, her eyebrow raised in amusement as she looked at the pair. "It's like, twelve thirty, your shift is over." Her eyes focused on El, glancing at the wine glass. "You're not hitting on some poor drunk girl, are you?"

Mike took a whole step back, holding his hands up in surrender. "No, of course not! We're just talking…" He crossed his arms, looking offended. "When have I _ever_ hit on a drunk woman? While I was clocked in and not drunk myself," he quickly added.

Annie crossed her arms but nodded. "Fair point. But you should still get out of here. If bossman comes by and thinks you're slacking…"

"Okay, you're right. Thanks for the head's up, Annie."

The santa hat wearing bartender waggled up her eyebrows but turned back to the bar as someone came up. El sort of forgot what they had been talking about, her heart sinking as she realized he was done with his shift and would probably head home. She'd really been enjoying talking to him—and staring at his pretty face. Her disappointment must have been written across her face because Mike took one look at her and then glanced behind her.

"Hey, so, I hope I'm not being too forward or anything, but there's an empty table over there…" He pointed and she looked over her shoulder, spotting the booth tucked in the corner, covered in empty glasses but otherwise abandoned. "If I go clock out, is there any chance I could meet you there in like five minutes? I… I've really enjoyed talking to you."

He swallowed, hands fidgety, clearly nervous.

"Yeah," she breathed, nodding. "I'd like that."

That ridiculous grin lit up his face and he nodded, almost bashful, looking pleased. "Alright, cool, I'll go clock out…" He glanced behind him at the bar and then back at her. "Did you need anything else before I'm done?"

"Nah—" Her empty stomach growled and she grimaced. "I know you don't have any food but I'm good on drinks."

For a second he stared at her, looking thoughtful and then grinned again, much more conspiratorially. "You know, I might just be able to make that happen. Meet you in five."

With that he disappeared into the dark end of the counter that hid a doorway for the staff. It was smart, not having a gap in the counter itself, so patrons couldn't drunkenly stumble behind it and grab battles of liquor. El stared after him for a second before finishing her glass of wine and leaving it sitting there, making sure her clutch was in her hand before walking over to claim the empty table. She felt comfortably woozy, more fluidlike, not stumbling or anything, but relaxed. It was the feeling she'd wanted, when she'd decided she was going to get drunk that night and not think about Christmas and all the pain that came with it. Her fridge had been lacking in alcohol, however, and she'd had no choice but to seek out the nearest open source. And it had happened to be here.

Maybe paying twelve dollars for an overpriced cocktail at a crowded bar didn't really make sense, but it wasn't like she didn't have enough money in her bank account. Her job paid almost too well, for being single at least. But having money had never really been something that she'd let get to her head. It was just a _thing_ —a thing she'd been used for before.

With a sigh she set her clutch onto the table, scooting into the small booth and pushing the few sticky glasses to the side. It had been busy enough that none of the waitresses had made it over yet and El did her best to stack the cups together so it would be easier to take them away.

She glanced back at the bar, where Mike had disappeared, shivering at the thought of his kind eyes. Their conversation came back, her sluggish mind suddenly shocked sober as she remembered spilling the sob story of her childhood. God, she'd told him about _Mama_. She hadn't told anyone about Mama since college. Usually that horrifying part of her past scared any and all potential friends away. She was so fucking _damaged_ , even if it wasn't her fault.

But for some reason he'd just… made her feel better instead of more sad. She wasn't sure if she was just attracted him to him because she was sad and lonely or if there was actually something there.

"Ugh, _no_ ," she moaned to herself, eyes falling onto the little Santa figurine that was sitting in front of her on the table. "This can't happen, right?" She was past believing any sort of god was up there listening, and drunk and emotional enough to converse with a plastic St. Nicholas. "Santa, tell me, am I just drunk and horny? Is that all this is? A cute guy to scratch this goddamn itch?"

The plasticine face didn't change it's jolly grin and El sighed.

"Look, buddy, if you're real, let me having something good for Christmas just once, okay? No more guys who aren't there next year? Deal?"

Santa stayed silent and she realized how stupid she must look, quickly looking away from the figurine and back over at the bar. Her eye caught movement from the corner and she turned to see Mike weaving his way through the tables and people towards, face eager, holding a plate of something she couldn't quite see and a glass of water.

God, how was he still interested after all she'd said?

She let her gaze wander up and down his tall frame, biting her lip. His chest was nicely broad, evening him out so he wasn't totally skinny, but nicely lanky, tapering down to narrow hips. A belt held up his black pants and she couldn't help but wonder what he would look like without them… standing over her… pushing her down onto her bed… crawling over her and pinning her down, chests brushing, hips pressing—

"You okay?"

His voice was low, only making her shiver again, but she came back from her fantasy, staring up at him, teeth still buried in her bottom lip. Their eyes met and his widened, red lips gaping open just slightly as he read the emotion that was evident on her face. After a moment he swallowed thickly, pupils flaring, and El finally dragged her eyes away, hiding a smirk at his reaction. It was obvious. She'd seen her lust mirrored in those dark, gleaming depths.

And she was too fucking drunk to be embarrassed.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she nodded, looking back up at him. "Are you?"

"Y-Yeah," he stammered, still captivated by her.

"Did you still want hang out? Or did you need to go…?"

"No! I-I mean—" He shook his head almost frantically and quickly sat down across from her. He set down the plate he'd been holding and then the water glass, scooting them both towards her side of the table. "Here, um, I managed to find some Eggos in the break room. You said you were hungry?"

There was a small stack of yellow, homestyle toaster waffles on the paper plate. Mike looked almost sheepish.

"I know they're not as good plain but the fridge was just cleaned out and whoever did it threw out my maple syrup…"

"You have a break room?" She reached, tentatively taking one of the waffles and sniffing it.

"Oh, yeah, this place actually used to be a strip club before Mr. Hammond bought. There wasn't much use for the old dressing room so he turned it into a break room. Which is handy if you have like, an eight hour shift."

She paused, the Eggo halfway to her mouth, eyebrows raised. "You've worked for eight hours straight? _Here_?"

"Yeah, seven PM to three AM on Friday nights." He shrugged like it was no big deal, eyes lingering on the waffle in her hands. "It pays the bills which is what's important. Are you even going to eat that?"

El looked down that unassuming breakfast food. "Yeah… I just haven't had one before, so quit rushing me, okay?"

"You've never had an _Eggo_?"

The condescension in his voice made her roll her eyes and she quickly took a huge bite. It was chewy, a little doughy, somewhere between sweet and cakey. Her eyes widened in surprise. It was _good_.

She took another bite, barely chewing the first, and then proceeded to wolf the entire thing down in mere seconds. Reaching for a second one, she scrunched her face up in bliss. It was probably because she was drunk and hungry, but suddenly the waffles were the best things she'd ever tasted in her damn life. Within another few minutes the plate was empty as she devoured the small pile, drinking the water to help get the slightly dry breakfast food down. Her stomach felt better, and she sighed happily as she finished every last crumb.

There was a soft snort of laughter and she remembered she wasn't alone.

"Jesus, you didn't even give them a _chance_ ," Mike snickered.

"I was hungry!" she protested, feeling herself flush. The liquid courage in her stomach was being sopped up by the Eggos and the lovely wooziness was starting to leave her sober. Sober enough to remember she was being rude. "Um, did you want any? I know it's too late but…"

"Nah, I ate a few hours ago. And clearly you needed them more than I did—"

"What does that mean?"

"Well, you were hungry for one thing," he replied casually. "But also you're drunk and I would definitely feel bad if you were only being nice and talking to me because you're drunk and your judgement is impaired."

There was a glimmer of insecurity in his eyes and she realized he really was worried that he was annoying her. As if she wasn't the drunk idiot who had distracted him from his job and begged him for food.

"Trust me," she said deliberately, "if I didn't want to talk to you, I would have left the second you offered me a free drink." She set her chin in her palm, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I want to be here, right now, talking to you. Drunk or not."

"O-Oh. Okay."

It was quiet and El looked down at the water glass he had set in front of her, reaching for it and sliding it closer. Her fingers traced shapes in the condensation and then she took a long drink, washing down the taste of the Eggos. She really did wish she had some more… they had been oddly delicious. Apparently she would have to make a trip to the nearest mini-mart as soon as she made it home.

She glanced at Mike who was just watching her. When they made eye contact he looked away, sucking in his cheeks, leg bouncing up and down beneath the table. It was like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

"So you already guessed that I hate Christmas. And you're right," she cajoled, raising her eyebrows. "But why do _you_ hate Christmas?"

"You didn't actually tell me why you hate it… but I guess it's my turn to get personal, right?"

"Sounds about fair," she replied with a smirk.

He sat back a bit in the booth, getting comfortable, brow creased in thought. "Well, I don't really _hate_ Christmas, so much as just _this_ Christmas. It's the first one in my entire life that I haven't been able to be with… well, anyone I actually care about. My best friends are all busy and my family is a mess and even if I really wanted to go somewhere I can't because I lost my job four months ago."

El frowned, confused. "But you work here?"

"This was a part time job. I used to work full time at an IT firm, I have a degree in computer science…" He sighed. "It was a pretty great job. Full benefits and health insurance and paid vacation… but they ended up closing the business because the owner wanted to retire. It was just time, nothing personal. I was lucky enough that my boss here took me on full time… but I'm getting paid half of what I was before. So any plans I had to travel to see my best friends for Thanksgiving got fucked and…"

"And your plans for Christmas got fucked too," she mumbled, feeling sympathetic.

"If I hadn't lost my job I was going to fly to New York and spend it with my sisters but—" He paused. It was obvious. He was broke, working in bar to keep from missing his rent. "And since Holly isn't at home anymore—that's my little sister," he clarified quickly, "there isn't any point in going there."

She couldn't help but ask. If her parents were still around, she'd do anything to make it home but… "You're not close with your parents?"

"More like they're not close to us. Any of us. My parents haven't been happy for a really long time," he started, hands fidgeting with one of the napkins, tearing it into shreds. "And it's not like we didn't figure it out when we heard them fighting or when they refused to talk to each other at dinner. We were kids but we weren't _stupid_."

He let out a frustrated sigh before continuing.

"Nancy left first—and not just because she grew up and went to college. She always came back for Christmas and breaks… but when they found out she had two boyfriends they lost their shit. Like she had committed some crime by falling in love. So she stopped coming back." He shrugged. "It's not like Holly and I could really blame her… she even paid for plane tickets so we could go to New York and visit. Nancy didn't stop trying, but she didn't want to come back if she couldn't bring who she loved."

"She sounds kind of awesome," El offered, hoping she wasn't interrupting.

"She is." He smiled, then dimmed. "I didn't stop trying either. I couldn't leave Holly alone with—with _them_. So I stayed and went to school in Indy instead, drove home every weekend. Got my bachelor's in computer science. I stayed and worked for the big name internet company in town, setting up routers and stuff, until two years ago when she turned eighteen and went to college. And then… I moved here because there was a job. And I haven't really gone back since."

It was quiet as the truth of his splintered home sunk in. El couldn't help but feel her heart ache for him. She'd lost her parents, sure, but at least she still had good memories. They had loved her and she would always have that.

Mike only had his siblings, scattered across the country.

"Didn't you mention… you had friends?" She spoke up. "None of them wanted to drop in for Christmas?"

"Well… Lucas just got married. He's spending Christmas with his wife's family in California because apparently they're crazy and won't let her go visit his family. Dustin lives in Japan and, I mean, have you ever priced tickets to Japan? I can't even afford to fly to NY." The napkin he'd been shredding was in pieces and he moved on to another one. "And Will… he actually invited me home with him last year, in Hawkins. And I went and his mom and brother are so kind and nice. I've known them literally forever but—" He grimaced. "It just felt like I was intruding on something. They're so close and they tried to include me but… it didn't feel right."

"So you don't actually _hate_ Christmas…" she tried to summarize. "You just don't have anyone to celebrate it with?"

"I guess," he shrugged.

"See, if you just avoid celebrating it all, then you don't have to feel bad about not having anyone."

"Sounds like something someone lonely would say." He frowned, maybe more at himself than her but she couldn't tell. "Is that why you don't celebrate it? So you don't have to think about being lonely?"

His words stabbed into her, the tender flesh she'd exposed to him taking a direct hit. Something in her broke open and she tried to play it off, not wanting to sit there in the jingle bell-filled bar and cry. Instead she just shrugged, trying to make her face into a mask of casual indifference.

"I'm done trying to make people want me in there life. It doesn't work… I'm just supposed to be solitary, I guess. It's not a big deal."

"So you hate Christmas… because it reminds you you're lonely too?" Mike tried to pinpoint, brow furrowed.

"No, I hate it because every damn time I've bothered to love someone, it ends right at Christmas. I've been with four guys, and sometimes it was just a month and other times it was over a year and every _fucking_ time it ends… it's fucking _Christmas_ ," she spat before taking a deep breath to calm down. "And I don't know, I haven't really liked it since before my dad died. After my mom married Brenner, Christmas was always weird… I would get all this expensive shit but now that I know what Mama went through for me to have it… I would give it all back just for her to be okay."

Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms, the fiery anger and hatred for the evil man who had all but killed her mother blazing up again. At that time she'd just accepted the new laptop and the Tiffany necklaces and had assumed they were pretty things to take up her time. But they'd cost her mother her sanity and now she felt dirty for even touching the fancy presents, drenched in her mother's blood.

"Well, uh, as far as Christmas goes, you definitely are allowed to hate it. No judgement here," he said, clearly trying to help her find a way back from the pain. "Like I just have a mild aversion… you've got a case to have Christmas cancelled. Yeah, fuck Christmas!"

El busted out laughing, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. He grinned, clearly happy with her reaction, and she felt her heart crack open, the hardened steel breaking apart. Somehow he just _understood_ , how to make her feel better, what she needed him to do make her feel human again. It was stupid, but she could feel herself falling for him.

She wanted him so bad it wasn't funny.

"Mike?"

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip, pausing, trying to think. "Um, do you live close by?"

He blinked but nodded. "Yeah, just a few blocks away. Why?"

"Well…" she sighed dramatically. "I really _really_ want some more Eggos and I guess I was wondering—"

"I know for a fact I have three boxes in my freezer right now," he interrupted, eyes bright with interest. "Homestyle _and_ whole wheat. Y'know, just in case I'm feeling healthy."

El felt herself smiling and she quickly glanced around the bar, at the dance floor full of writhing people, at the bar still staggered with patrons. Strangers, happy to lose themselves to the idea of Christmas, blissfully ignorant to the suffering of the world.

"Can we… get away from here? And get Eggos?" One of her hands moved across the table, sliding into his large palm, the warmth of his hand comforting.

He looked down, at their entwined fingers, squeezing her hand softly in his. When he looked back up at her, he nodded. "Let's go."

They both crawled from the booth, sharing a secret smile, and El grabbed her clutch before they made their way to the front so she could grab her coat. It was cold outside, a chilly tendril of frosty air curling up around her legs, the heat coming from between them as she followed Mike absolutely unbearable. There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted him, and while she truly did want Eggos… she wanted something else too.

So far he'd managed to silence every single one of her doubts, the ones that told her it was bad idea, that getting close to him would only end in pain. That starting something on Christmas was stupid. That he was interested enough in her to even want to get close to her too. Whoever this guy was, he was making her feel all kinds of crazy—but she didn't even _mind_. She wanted to kiss him and touch him and feel him all over her.

That could happen for at least _one_ night, right?

Her hand reached out for his, like she had at the bar, seeking his warmth and the strange comfort that she found in him. He took her hand, pulling her closer as he realized she was cold, smiling down at her as they scurried down the sidewalk. It wasn't too far, and before she knew it he was leading her into an apartment building that wasn't exactly _nice_ but seemed clean and well kept despite the dinged up walls and occasional broken light.

"It's on the fourth floor and the elevator is out…" He sounded sheepish. "You think you can make the climb?"

El nodded, following him to the stairwell. "I work out so I should be fine… but if not you can always carry me."

"I'm pretty sure between the two of us, you'll be able to carry me. I'm not exactly athletic."

At that she laughed, skipping over to the stairs and bounding up them, her dress swishing around her legs. When she looked down at him, over her shoulder, she noticed him staring, his eyes on the few inches of exposed between her boots and the hem of her skirt. He looked up, turning red as he realized he'd been caught, but she smirked at him, beckoning, beguiling, and then started to run up the stairs faster, laughing.

He took the challenge, racing up after her, footsteps pounding behind her as he took the stairs, grinning. El giggled, glancing over her shoulder as he started to close in. She was faster, but he had longer legs that took him farther and she had to speed up as he swiped at her, barely catching the back of her coat. An excited squeal left her and she realized they'd made it to the fourth floor.

Without missing a beat, she hastily pushed through the door and into the hallway, running down the carpeted hall, Mike hot on her heels. The even ground gave him the advantage and he caught up to her in a second, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and picking her up, spinning her. She squealed again, laughing, feeling his strong arms, the firmness of his chest against her back, his breath hot on her neck.

When he set her down she turned to face him, staying close, looking up at him with large eyes, feeling so damn needy and ready to touch him. He didn't move away either, instead gravitating closer and closer and—

The door behind them suddenly opened and an unamused older woman stuck her head out, glaring.

"Don't you two know it's late? And Christmas Eve?"

"S-Sorry, Mrs. Gillespie," Mike stuttered. "We're heading to my place now. Um, Merry Christmas!"

The woman rolled her eyes but closed her door without another word. Mike looked sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck and taking a step back from her. It took all of El's willpower not to grab him and throw him against the wall and kiss him, but she realized maybe starting something in the hallway wasn't a good idea. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that she wanted him…

And it seemed like he wanted her too.

"Here, further down… that's where I live," he stated, tilting his head inquisitively. "You okay?"

She didn't hesitate, almost purring as she smiled up at him.

"Let's go."

* * *

 _ **Not sure when the next update will be but a nice review always helps motivate me. You already know what's coming next. It's partially written but a little love wouldn't hurt.**_

 _ **Merry Christmas**_

 _ **~SP**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_AN:_**

 ** _Took longer than I thought. Sorry._**

 ** _I won't say much, but I hope you enjoy._**

* * *

The apartment door shut behind El and she vaguely heard Mike say something about the Eggos, offering her a place to sit, stepping around her to head toward the kitchen, all gentlemanly manners. She caught his arm, not letting him go far, and as he turned to back to her, looking adorably confused, she realized she couldn't take it anymore.

The feeling that had been building all night filled her chest like a nuclear explosion of heat and want. He was sweet and understanding and thoughtful and so fucking hot he'd had her clenching her thighs all night. The last vestiges of the alcohol were convincing her it was a good idea, to just give in already. If he didn't want her, he could say no, but she something told her he would want it just as much as she did. And she wanted it bad.

Three steps and she was against him, hands seeking the nape of his neck, tangling into the thick ebony locks there, pulling him down to her as she stood up on her toes and kissed him. She felt him gasp against her lips, felt his chest stutter as he tried to take a shocked breath, but then she pressed the whole of herself against him and opened her mouth, inviting him in, wanting him to take what she was standing in front of him and offering.

It was as though she'd flicked some mental switch inside of him.

His hands grabbed her waist, steadying her and pulling her closer, and then his lips were moving hungrily against hers as he kissed her back, firm and needy. The feel of him, pressed tightly to her chest, his unzipped jacket digging into her coat, was like some sort of drug, a heady relief filling her as he responded so easily. His tongue ran across her bottom lip, teasing and hot, and she grabbed his face with her hands so she could kiss him harder, her teeth scraping against him hungrily.

It felt so good and right, what she had been craving, and she let out a low whine when he pulled back, his lips wet, pupils blown, completely wonderstruck as he stared down at her, breathless. But there was hesitation clouding his eyes, like he wasn't sure if it was really happening, and his brow furrowed as his perfect lips formed words.

"El, I—"

She put her finger up to quiet him, knowing what he was thinking. "It's okay, Mike, I know you didn't bring me to your place because you thought this would happen. But I want it to."

"And you're not… drunk?" He winced, like he felt bad for suggesting it.

It dawned on her then, why he'd been so vigilant at the bar, keeping an eye on her drinks and then finding her something to eat when she said she was done. Offering to call her a cab. Escorting her out.

He'd been trying to keep her safe. Which wasn't really necessary since she'd spent most of her years alone and knew how to take care of herself. But it was somehow… nice. To feel cared about it.

It only turned her on more.

"I'm tipsy at most," she said honestly, biting her lip and looking up at him. "But I'm not so drunk I don't know for sure if I want you to fuck my brains out."

His eyes widened in surprise and then darkened with lust. He reached for her and she went to him again, hungry mouths meeting in a fiery clash, hands wandering, bodies pressing more tightly together. When she pulled back, she glanced around the apartment, desperate to find his room, but his hand found the back of her head and brought her back to his waiting lips. She surrendered to his kiss again, hot and wet and knee-melting, and then felt his hands slip down the sides of her, taking their time to feel the shape of her body as she whimpered and writhed against him. He gripped her hips with his large hands, bringing her closer, and then in one swift move he hoisted her up his tall body. She took the hint, quickly wrapping her legs around his waist and holding him around the neck, moving her kisses down his jaw and then back to his ear, tickling his lobe. He strided across the room as easily as possible while balancing their combined weight, and then down the hall, pushing a door open to reveal his darkened bedroom.

El pulled her attention back from his neck to glance around, noting the many bookshelves covered with books and magazines and… figurines? There posters on the wall too, and a dresser scattered with spare change and a stack of neatly folded underwear, what she could see from the dim light through his blind-covered window. The room was well-kept, tidy, and she was suddenly grateful he wasn't some slob with dirty bedsheets and old food everywhere.

They fell onto the bed and she stopped thinking about it, instead enjoying the feel of Mike on top of her, almost whining at how heavenly it was to feel his solid frame pressing down on her. She was so much smaller compared to his lanky frame, but somehow she fit right into him, and she let out a moan as she wrapped her legs around him, feeling her dress sliding up her thighs as he kissed her neck and collarbones, nibbling on them as she moaned again. Her hips bucked up, seeking some sort of friction to help lessen the throbbing between her legs, and he responded with his own thrust, both gasping at the delicious sensation it caused.

His hand trailed down her side, past the strap that had fallen down her shoulder, past the skirt that was bunching up around her hips, down her silken leg until his fingers found the top of the over-the-knee black boot she was wearing. He gripped it and then sat up between her legs so he could get the leverage to slide it right off of her, letting it thud onto his floor. The other boot quickly followed and El could see his needy instinct to undress her written across his face, arching her back and letting the other strap of her dress fall down, tempting and sultry.

She would give him what he wanted.

Mike's eyes were glued to her as she arched, reaching for the bottom of the crushed red velvet skirt, pulling it up higher and higher until her plain black panties were exposed, the swell of her hips and the soft, pale skin of her thighs.

"Unwrap me, Mike," she said breathily, finding his hands and closing his fists in the heavy fabric of her dress, urging him to finish the job.

There was no hesitation as he did her bidding, but he went slowly, graciously, as though she was some sort of hallowed ground he was being allowed bear witness too. He slid the dress up with one hand, the other following beneath, caressing the smooth skin of her tummy and then torso and then he needed both hands to push it over her chest as she helped him, lifting her upper back so the whole thing flew over her head in a sizzling rush.

It hit his floor with a soft whisper.

There was no bra to obscure his hungry gaze, she hadn't needed one, and she saw him swallow thickly as he took in the sight of her bare chest, the tips of each soft swell hardening under his stare, begging for his touch, the creamy skin and soft peaks beckoning irresistibly. He started to reach with eager hands, but she let herself fall back onto the bed out of reach, smiling coyly and shaking her head at him.

"Take off your shirt," she told him. "I think it's a little unfair right now."

She hadn't even finished her sentence and he was tearing his vest off, popping buttons in his haste as his clothing landed next to hers on the floor. He unbuttoned his pants and awkwardly fumbled out of them, hissing out a breath of annoyance until they were gone and he was left in a pair of candy-cane striped underwear.

El's eyes widened at the sight and she snorted out a laugh, quickly covering her mouth as he raised a brow at her. She gestured to his underwear.

"So much for hating Christmas?"

"I don't argue with what underwear is on sale," he protested, smiling, crawling back over her and silencing her laughter with a hot kiss that had her whimpering in seconds. His hand traced up her stomach, whisper-soft, fingers finding the curve of a breast, and she whimpered again, pushing against him, encouraging him.

He took his time, cupping the slight weight, thumbing at her nipples, gentle and needy all at once, settling his hips back between her legs as he did so. El felt hot, too hot, and when he slid down her, his mouth hungrily kissing and nibbling tiny marks on her skin, she let out a whine, entangling her fingers into his hair and arching, grinding her hips up against him, feeling too much everywhere.

His tongue flicked over the aching peaks, cool breath making her shiver, and she tugged at his hair without thinking, trying to ground herself somehow. There was a grunt and suddenly his hands found her wrists, pulling them out of his hair and pinning them next to her as he laved attention on her soft mounds, suckling and teasing, keeping her still as she whimpered and whined and trembled beneath him, the pleasure so good… but still not enough. She'd been waiting for it all night and she was wound so tight she didn't even mind begging.

"Mike," she panted, bucking her hips again, "I need more."

His dark head popped up, lips as wet as her pretty tits, eyes gleaming in the half-light coming through the blinds over his window. At her plea his gaze dropped back down to her breasts, and then went lower, to her panties. He glanced back up at her, as though waiting for a final confirmation, and she quickly nodded, unable to find actual words but desperate for him to get there.

His hand slid down beneath the lace edge of the panties and she whined against him, squirming, so eager and ready to be touched. When his fingers found her folds she cried out, unable to help it, her body jerking beneath him in relief. He let out a gasp of surprise, looking down and then back up at her.

"Holy shit you're fucking soaked," he breathed. "Have you been like this all night?"

"I wanted you," she mewled, the feeling of his digits tracing her core making her weak. "I wanted you the second I saw you. I still want you, please, Mike, fuck, please touch me!"

"God, you're so hot when you beg," he groaned. "I didn't think you could make me want this more but fuck, El."

He punctuated his words by pushing a finger into her and she almost choked, throwing her head back and pressing her hips into his hand, silently begging for more. At first he was slow, experimental, pushing in and out of her and watching her strain and whimper, but after he added a second finger and she started to writhe, he went faster. It was like some sort symphony—her gasps and whines, the sound of his name leaving her lips—one only he knew how to play. His thumb brushed her clit and then pressed down, rubbing firmly but carefully as his fingers scissored and curled inside of her, waves of heat traveling through her body as a gentle tingle began to build just below her button. He was biting his lip in concentration, his free hand gripping her thigh to keep her steady despite her constant lurching, her heels digging into the bed beneath them.

El was positive no other man she'd ever been with had figured it out so quickly, what felt good, how she liked it, how much pressure to—

"Oh, fuck!"

She lost it, wound so tightly after sitting still all night that she came undone from just his touch. Her eyes slammed shut as a cry left her mouth and she shuddered, hands gripping at his sheets as his teeth found her skin, nipping and driving her wild as she was racked with pleasure.

"Fuck! Uhn, oh—shit, Mike, that's—" She had to take a deep breath as the stars faded out of her vision, her thighs still trembling. "Fuck, that was amazing."

He looked down as he slowly eased his fingers out of her and then pulled his hand from her panties. They were slippery and completely drenched and he almost seemed amazed, shifting his gaze back to her face.

"That was the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen," he told her as he climbed back up to her, kissing her despite her panting breaths and heaving chest, almost like he was grateful. "You sure you're not just a really good dream?" He shook his head at that. "Actually, no, not even I'm creative enough to dream up someone as beautiful and sexy as you. Jesus."

She was finally recovered but nowhere near satisfied, and while his words made her want to purr happily, instead she decided to act, letting her hand move down between them. It found the edge of his briefs and easily slid beneath them, searching for what she was desperate for. She found it, hard and throbbing, ready for her, and grinned as she wrapped her fingers around his sizable length.

"Ah, shit," he grunted, falling onto one elbow, burying his face next to her ear.

The sound of his panting as she gave him a few experimental strokes only turned her on more, knowing that he liked what she was doing. His hips jerked against her and he let out a little whimper, lost in the mass of her curls, body concaved over her, something that sounded like her name. El was almost too busy marveling at the size of him to really notice.

"Damn," she breathed, keeping her movements up. Her other hand wrapped around the back of his neck, gently stroking the hair at the nape of his neck in a soothing way. It was oddly intimate, the way he was buried against her as she pleasured him, little groans and whimpers escaping his lips that breathed hotly against her neck and ear. "You're kind of perfect," she whispered, almost more to herself than him.

Something about him really did feel perfect—like he had said, it almost felt like a dream, the way he fit so perfectly with her, how quick he was to understand her needs, how fucking incredibly sexy he was as he groaned her name, how sweet his words were.

If this was a dream, she was going to be so fucking pissed in the morning.

Deciding that she wanted it all, she gently slowed her hand before letting go, reaching for the elastic waist of his underwear instead, whispering, "Is it okay if I take them off?"

It took him a second to get back up on his elbows, and when he did his face was flushed, eyes soft, mouth gaping as he panted. He nodded, glancing away, and she caught a hint of insecurity shadowing his face, his teeth digging at his plush bottom lip, making it even more red. She let the waistband go and reached for him, cupping his cheeks in her hands and pulling him down to share a hot kiss, one she hoped was reassuring.

"Hey," she whispered as they broke apart, "I wouldn't be trying to get into your pants if I didn't think I wanted what was in there. And I want it like… so fucking bad, Mike."

Her voice was breathy and she shivered as she said his name, arching her back up again and rubbing herself against the front of him, enjoying how he let out a groan as she wantonly stretched and sighed and showed the proof of her need for him. He stared down at her for a second, like he was trying to understand how it was all real, and then the lust sparked back into his dark gaze and he moved to pin her down, fingers entwining, hips grinding heavily in a way that made her forget how to breathe.

"You want it bad, huh?" he growled.

"Yes." It was almost a sob, spilling from her mouth with needy desperation.

His arm looped beneath her mid-back, pulling her further up the bed in a single, dominant move that had her gasping, and then he slid back down her torso, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses that made her tremble. When he reached her panties there was no more hesitation, his fingers hooking into the black lace and tugging. She let her legs move up together so he could push them down until they too ended up in a pile on his carpet.

El felt bare, like she always did when she had sex. An uncommon vulnerability crept in, not insecurity, but the shaky feeling that came with knowing that he could see everything—not just her body, but her soul, laid out before him as she stared at with him a furrowed brow and wide eyes. Part of her wondered if that was what men liked so much, that moment where they knew they had the power to make her feel whatever they wanted. There had been plenty of times when it had been used against her, to make her feel small and stupid and weak.

But when she looked at Mike, there was nothing malicious in his eyes, no hidden agenda to take control of her. There was only amazement and adoration and—something else, something gentle and soft and warm.

His lips found her thigh, hands carefully pushing her legs apart, a trail of kisses making her gasp, eyes slamming shut, as he nipped and then sucked on the tender skin there, leaving dark purple marks whose existence she would discover later. She could feel his warm breath against her dripping womanhood, quivering as he gripped her thighs, his hands so large they almost wrapped entirely around the circumference of her leg, keeping her spread open as his mouth finally made contact.

"Ah! Fu—Ah!" The cry was choked in her throat as she threw her head back against his pillow.

There was no doubt in her mind that he had done this before and he was a goddamn master, his tongue slithering through her folds and then lapping at her already swollen clit. It was like every nerve in her body was suddenly on high alert, and he was pressing the button that made electricity zap through her with each swipe of his skilled tongue. He hummed against her and she bucked, unable to help it, tears forming at the edges of her vision, which was quickly beginning to tunnel. There was no way she would cum again, not this quickly, not before they'd even actually—

"M-Mike! Oh, god, Mike—ah, ah!"

She spasmed, legs trying to clamp shut as he kept her open, his dark gaze fixed on her as she writhed and screamed, so amped up from all of it that his name ripped from her throat over and over until her orgasm ended, body racked with pleasure, warm and tingly and oh so luxurious. She flopped backwards onto his bed, panting, body dewy and glistening in the low light as he crawled back up to her and kissed her hotly.

"You okay?" he asked when he pulled back, lips and cheeks wet, eyes hooded as he waited for her assurance.

Instead of answering she reached down, snagging his waistband and then ripping his underwear down his hips. He grunted in surprise but took the hint, balancing himself over her with one hand and using the other to help remove the cheery boxer briefs. This time he didn't seem unsure, instead letting the thing material disappear, his heavy cock resting against her thigh as he let out a long breath, somewhere between relief and amazement. They were both finally naked, something she had been unable to stop imagining since he'd first walked towards her down the counter of the bar.

El couldn't help it, her eyes widening as she gazed down at his exposed manhood.

"Wow."

"Wow yourself," he shot back letting his hands slide up her body, feeling the shape of her curves as he lips found her neck. "You should know you're actually the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. Like, for real. I thought your face was pretty but this—" He nipped at a spot right below her jaw, his hand sweeping across her tummy and then down. "Your body is pure heaven, El."

His breath cooled the wetness he left on her throat, causing her to whimper as she bucked up, feeling the delicious thickness settle right against her core—so fucking close. She let out a whine, squirming, hips wiggling, hands reaching, wanting him to just put it in already. He seemed happy to tease her but she was sure she would stop breathing if he didn't fill her up, stretch her open and fuck her until she forgot who she was and why she was there.

"Mike," she whined, "please, Mike, I need you inside me. I need it. I need you."

He froze at her words, lips pinched around the soft skin at the swell of her breasts. His head slowly moved up, until his eyes were locked with hers and she shivered, hands grasping at his waist, trying to get him closer, face pinched with need.

"You, um, do you have protection?" It was the most awkward he'd sounded all night, and somehow El found it adorable.

"I've got an IUD, so, yeah. And um," she fumbled over her own words, face flushing, but not from desire this time. "I'm clean… for like two years, so—"

"Me too."

The awkward tension and uncertainty faded as the last piece of caution tape was peeled away, and then their mouths met and El wrapped around her arms around Mike's neck as he let his weight rest on her, his hard dick rubbing against her folds as he bucked his hips, her moans lost against his lips. Their bare chests pressed against each other, skin to skin, breaths mingling between groans and whimpers as they moved together, and the heat from before roared up again, setting their bodies on fire.

"Mike!" she gasped, every vein in her body full of white hot lava. "Please."

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, eyes flashing as he pulled back.

"I-I—" She keened as he thrust against her hard, the tip of him brushing her clit in a way that had her seeing stars. There was no doubt in her mind what she wanted. "I want you to fuck me! I want you to fuck me hard!"

Her breath stuttered in her throat as she canted her hips against him, desperate to feel him. A low groan left his lips and then he was kissing her and she reached down the same time as he did, both grasping and pushing and then she could feel him, hot and heavy and perfect, pressing in, and she couldn't keep the high keen from escaping her lips, teeth clenching as she arched against him.

He went slow, panting over her, and she was grateful because it had been a while and none of her toys at home could compare to his girth and she was wet enough, she knew without a doubt, but it was still a stretch—an exquisite stretch.

"Oh fuck," she whined, one hand gripping the lovely slant of his waist, the other clinging to his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut. "Holy fucking shit, oh god, it's so big!"

There was a grunt and then she realized he was all the way in, hips pressed against her thighs, and part of her was amazed she'd been able to take the whole thing while the bigger part was screaming in agony at the fact that he wasn't moving yet. She needed him to move. His lips touched her forehead and then her cheeks, kissing so carefully, as though he was afraid she would break beneath him. Her eyes cracked open, slowly, and her chest heaved as she took deep breaths, trying to process the look he had on his face, her mind scrambled at the deliciousness that was being one with him.

His dark gaze was burning—but not just with lust. There was something deeper than she'd seen all night, tangled in his arms, and it took her breath away. But what was it?

"M-Mike?"

The sound of his name broke him from his staring and the look in his eyes faded, the inky depths suddenly pulsing with desire and then he was slanting his mouth over hers and she moaned into his mouth he pressed down close, melding the two of them together, bodies entwined in every way.

And then he moved his hips.

All thoughts faded into a single cry of his name that seemed to be exactly what he wanted to hear because he did again, thrusting into her deliberately, long and easy strokes, his stomach dragging over hers as she clung to him, unable to do much else but hold on for the ride.

"Jesus, you're tight," he grunted, his forehead falling against hers, eyes closed. "Feels so fucking good, holy shit, El. So good."

It did feel good, better than good, better than anything she'd felt in her whole damn life. The curve of him was perfect, pressing against something inside of her that had her gasping, as though he'd been made just to fuck her. That and the angle of his hips as he slapped against her over and over made her toes curl. But it still wasn't enough.

"M-More," she managed.

The pace increased, a push and pull as she allowed her hips to swing with his, heels digging into the small of his back, egging him on. It felt so… right, the way he seemed to touch every inch of her all at once, inside and out. He panted against her, sweaty forehead dampening her curls, one of his hands finding hers, squeezing hard, like it was the only thing grounding him.

El never wanted him to stop, in fact she wanted him to speed up and go deep and harder and—

"H-How—" His voice was ragged, thick with lust, as he kept his pace. "How do you want it?"

Her brain was overloaded with the sensation as he filled her up over and over, and it took a second for her to process that he had even spoken. "What?"

He slowed and she couldn't help but whine in proteset. "What's the best way for you? To feel good?"

It hit her, what he meant, and she quickly thought back to her past sexual experiences, vaguely remembering the one time she'd cum during actual intercourse with another human. It had been accident.

"Put my legs on your shoulders," she managed. "Don't slow, please, Mike, I'm so full—I just want to keep feeling you."

It was three seconds after the words had left her mouth that she felt his hands grip her ankles and jerk them up as he leaned back and then she was being bent in half and he was thrusting into her, faster than before, and—

"Ah-ah-ah, shit!"

It was like his cock had been custom made just for her, the ridge of his head rubbing so deeply inside of her with the new angle, at the perfect spot, and almost immediately she was covered in tingles of goosebumps, creeping up her legs and down her head and spine. There was no doubt in her mind she was going to cum again, throwing her head back, hands searching for something to grip onto as he started to go faster, plowing into her with firm strokes, his perfect thickness splitting her open more roughly as he let out a grunt. Her eyes stared up at him in amazement as she tried to understand what was happening, pink lips gaping as she panted, but he seemed to take it as a sign that he wasn't being hard enough because he narrowed his eyes and stretched her even farther, so far it almost hurt.

It felt amazing, and he fucked her rougher with each thrust, until she threw her head back again, eyes squeezing shut, barely able to stand it.

"Oh, Mike, Mike," she cried, her hands finally finding his biceps, nails digging into the muscle, "fuck me, oh god, you're gonna make me cum again!"

"Do it, El, let me feel you squeeze my cock."

He was grinning, though she couldn't see it, and started slamming into her with an intensity that rattled every bone in her body, like he'd be born just to fuck her. She'd told him she'd wanted it hard and he didn't fail to delivering, jolting her up the bed with each thrust, a cry leaving her throat as he pounded into her.

"C'mon, beautiful, let me see you cum," he breathed, his voice commanding but affectionate at the same time. "Let me see it, El."

"I—I'm—" She was writhing, legs falling open as her vision began to tunnel again, unable to control anything anymore as she started to clench. "Mike!"

It hit her like a tidal wave, every muscle going taut, and then her senses left her, mind becoming a vortex of sheer pleasure as the man who had only been a stranger mere hours ago sent her careening into the most intense sensational overload of her life. Her legs shook, seizing up and then going slack as she screamed, head thrown back as the heat that had built exploded into every inch of her body, so forcefully her vision blacked out. She screamed again, fingers blindly digging into his biceps as he let out a growl, closing down on her, as if he was trying to get closer as he found the edge of his own climax. They were locked together, in that moment, though El couldn't feel anything that wasn't orgasmic bliss. She couldn't feel just how much she'd tightened up, didn't know how he was barely holding on, but she was vaguely aware of her body still lurching across the bed—and then of his voice in her ear, low and hot as he grunted.

"—I'm gonna cum, El, so tight, so fucking gorgeous, Jesus, I can't—"

There was a low groan and a whimper and she came back from her rush in time to feel him start to pull out, hips shifting, hand pushing, trying to roll off of her, hot cock sliding out of her fluttering cunt, and leaving her feeling so empty. Sure, they'd only known each other for one night, but if she knew anything, it was that she wanted all he would give her. And she wanted this.

Her mind was too hazy, throat choked, and she couldn't find words, instead choosing to act. Her legs wrapped around him like a vice, hands finding his face and pulling him down, back into her aching walls and down to her lips.

"Inside me, Mike," she breathed. "Please."

There wasn't much choice at that point but his eyebrows jumped in surprise and then his face went blank, eyes opening, and she felt him, even hotter inside, pulsing and groaning and shuddering, hips slamming into her once more as he spilled into her. Her mouth found his and she kissed him, feeling the softness of his lips twitching as he let out a soft whimper, falling onto her totally, his weight heavy but welcome. He panted against her, their chests heaving together, El's chestnuts curls stuck to their sweaty cheeks and throats as they lay tangled in each other's arms.

She breathed it in, the feeling of being so close to someone—something she had missed so much in the past two years. Every inch of her connected, physically and mentally and spiritually, as though her very essence had been fused with his. With Mike's.

And god, she loved it.

There was a feeling of quiet contentment as they lay there, catching their breath, bodies still connected, several minutes passing. El felt the sweat on her skin cool, but the warmth of him covered her and she curled into him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. He let out a soft, happy sound and then turned his head to kiss her fully, dark eyes focused tenderly on her. When he pulled back, he smiled.

"You're amazing. I—" He blinked, warm and soft, and El couldn't help but shiver happily, knowing he was so… happy. "I don't think I've ever felt that good in my life. Like ever, I mean—"

He glanced down and she did too, both realizing that they'd made quite a mess, thighs painted with their combined juices, and Mike looked up at her sheepishly before carefully pulling out. She let out a hiss, frowning at the unexpected empty feeling, but he quickly soothed her with a kiss, letting his forehead rest against hers for a moment before he carefully crawled off of her, keeping an arm wrapped around her waist and then pulling her against him as he settled onto his side. Her smaller body tucked into him perfectly, and she let her hands rest on the broad expanse of his chest, tracing the smooth paleness up to the curve of his throat and hearing him sigh happily.

God, it felt so right.

"I could get used to that," she admitted quietly, letting her eyes meet his, lips curving up into a smile. "Jesus, what was that… three times? I don't think I've even gotten myself off that many times in a row. You deserve a metal. Or a trophy."

"How about dinner?"

She felt her eyes widen, suddenly breathless. "Dinner?"

His cheeks flushed, lips gaping for a second like he was suddenly unsure, before he pushed on. "Yeah, um, like eating food together? Maybe tomorrow? It could be like a date."

Holy shit, he wanted to go on a date with her? That made sense, somehow, considering how mindblowing the sex had just been and how sweet he was and also cute and also kind and considerate. Oh yes, she definitely wanted to go on a date with him but—

"Um, tomorrow's Christmas, nothing will be open, Mike."

The light in his eyes died and she realized he thought she was turning him down, quickly shaking her head.

"No, um, I mean, we could have dinner at my place—I have stuff for pasta if you—"

"I love pasta," he interrupted, so quickly it was almost one word instead of three. "Tomorrow night?"

He sounded so eager, eyes so full of light that she couldn't help but smile and then slide up to kiss him, making her answer plain as she teased his lips open, her hand curling up around his shoulder and into his hair. When they broke apart, he slowly eased back, like he didn't want to stop, and she sighed, feeling so deliciously wanted.

All night he had been making her feel so… wanted. First at the bar, wanting to talk to her, to get to know her, to make her laugh and keep her from getting into drunken trouble. And then wanting her body, to be one with her, to make her feel so good over and over…

And even now that it was over, he still wanted to have dinner with her, to be there holding her.

"Do you mind if I stay?" she asked fearlessly, but then gulped, dodging eye contact. "Um, here tonight?"

"I was hoping you would."

His arms pulled her into him, her head fitting neatly beneath his chin, and there were no more words to say, the warmth of their bodies and the relaxed contentment settling over the two of them. The little voice from earlier, telling her that it was a bad idea, that she was just horny and lonely and looking for something she'd never have, was quiet now. All that was left was the nightly hustle of the city, the sizzle of snow hitting the sidewalks, and the resting anticipation that always came with Christmas Eve.

And for the first time in many years, El felt it too, the somber reminder of her past failures erased by the warmth that had engulfed her with open arms. What awaited tomorrow? She wasn't entirely sure. But for once she was excited for Christmas day and what would happen. For once she felt like Santa might not totally fuck her over. That maybe this year could be different.

Curling into Mike, forehead pressed against the curve of his throat, his gentle heartbeat thudding against her cheek, El slowly let herself smile.

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _I'm always amazed they don't realize their soulmates right away. Like how?_**

 ** _This might only be three or four chapters, I've decided, but it's going to have a sequel. Maybe two. I have to find more Ariana Grande songs to fit I guess. I hope you liked this chapter and I'll try and update more quickly, though I'll be busy again for the rest of the week and weekend. But the next chapter is started so it's not totally bleak._**

 ** _What'd you think? Let me know. I was hoping I balanced the hot with the reality that they're still strangers. I suppose the sex can only get better from here, wouldn't you agree?_**

 ** _Until next time_**

 ** _~SP_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_AN:_**

 ** _I'm officially deciding on four chapters but with my history I could be wrong. We're almost there, now, but there will be more to this story. I hope you like this chapter because it's one of my favorites so far._**

* * *

El woke up feeling warm, flannel sheets and cozy quilt wrapped over her shoulder, head nestled into a soft pillow, feeling content and oh so snuggly. Her eyes blinked open slowly, trying to find the alarm clock she had on her side table, to see what time it was. But there wasn't a clock _or_ a table and suddenly her gaze focused in on the bookcase to her left, covered in figurines and comics, posters on the walls, foreign and surprising and definitely not hers.

She sat up with a gasp and realized not only did she not recognize her surroundings, but that she was totally _naked_. Her dress was on the ground in sight but she had no idea where her panties were. God, and she had to pee so fucking bad.

All at once it came back. The bar. The Christmas music. Sweet chocolate on her tongue and talking. Stumbling down the snowy streets in the dark. Hot kisses. Hot moans. The delicious feeling of ecstasy coursing between her legs, and warm arms pulling her close.

Her cheeks flushed as she remembered the previous night, a slight ache between her thighs reminding her how perfect it had been. How perfect _he_ had been. The man who had made her laugh so fucking much but had been so kind and real and amazing. Not to mention the _sex_.

Holy fuck, the sex.

The first round had been good. She couldn't get over how good it had been, leg-shaking, eye-rolling perfection. And then they'd woken up a few hours later at dawn, with golden light glowing behind the blinds—and had promptly gone another frantic, perfect, sweaty round, falling back into each other's' arms, totally exhausted. God, she couldn't even remember how many times she had cum. All thanks to him.

Mike.

Her heart fluttered in her chest at the thought of his dark eyes and handsome face, his lips against her throat, his hands on her hips, his voice saying her name as he groaned. How open and honest he'd been about his family and their failings, his willingness to be vulnerable and admit he'd lost his job and was struggling. The cute drinks, the Eggos, compliments…

He was too good to be real.

It her like a snowplow—she was the only one in the bed, the other side empty and cold. Her heart stopped fluttering and sank instead.

He had left. She was alone.

A thousand different memories bombarded her at once. Of waking up alone in her own bed, when there should have been someone there, someone who had told her they loved her and cared about her but who had stolen away into the night with all their possessions instead. Of waking up in stranger's beds, a note of thanks maybe left behind with the strong expectation of her immediate departure. Of waking up as a child to an empty house.

They always left her. Because she was meant to be alone.

If she knew anything about her life, it was that she wasn't made to be loved. In the end, even her parents hadn't been able to stay. It had been stupid to think any of the men from her past would want to try and love her for the rest of their lives. It was stupid to think anyone would want to love her, let alone a bartender who had listened to her rantings and slept with her.

 _Of course he left_.

Then her ears picked up a sound, a clattering of pans and someone happily humming a rather unorthodox version of _Jingle Bell Rock_ —coming through the open door of the room.

All at once air returned to her lungs and she almost flopped back onto the bed in relief. The knot of fear in her chest loosened and fell apart and she almost cried she was so relieved, a little upset with herself for assuming the worst but well-versed enough in psychology to know it wasn't entirely her fault. Instead of stewing in her annoyance at herself, she followed the prickles of curiosity about what was going on outside the room, figuring it was probably Mike but wanting to know what he was up to.

Scanning the other side of the bed, she spotted a dresser and reluctantly left the warm sheets and walked over to it. Somehow she didn't feel awkward, being completely naked in a stranger's room, and she opened one of the drawers to find a neat rows of shirts, spying one with a Star Wars graphic on the front and grabbing it with a smirk. It was soft and well worn and fell down over her thighs, long enough to cover Mike's long torso and almost the perfect size to be a dress for her.

Her eyes spied her panties on the ground but she grimaced. They were probably in desperate need of a wash after last night. No point there.

Her bladder was urging her to find the bathroom so she slid from the cozy bedroom, spotting an open door across the hall that was exactly what she was looking for. After she'd finished, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and almost yelled. Her mascara had turned into black smudges under her eyes, a bit of lipstick still smeared across her chin. There was a stack of washclothes on a shelf and she helped herself, turning on the water and scrubbing her face until it was clean. She used it to wipe a few other places, figuring it would have to do until she could make it home and shower. The washcloth ended up in the hamper and she finally left the bathroom feeling a little better, finding her way down the hallway.

The smell of cooking eggs lead her, and the sound of that terrible humming which had turned into terrible singing, low and offkey but somehow endearing. The Christmas tune didn't even bother her, because the sight of tall, ridiculous Mike bopping in front of the stove in sweatpants and a white shirt and an apron, was enough to make her forget she hated Christmas.

"That smells good," she announced, leaning in the doorway and crossing her arms.

He jumped in surprise and whipped around to face her, holding a spatula, and she burst into laughter, at first because he had reacted so dorkily to her scaring him but then because the front of his apron said, "What's cooking, good looking?" and it was so _cheesy_ but cute and she couldn't help but laugh because he was absolutely ridiculous. He looked down a the front of himself and then at her mirthful face, his cheeks reddening.

"It was a gift," he protested, looking adorably embarrassed. She only laughed harder and he crossed his arms, amused but pretending to be hurt.

"Look, I'm out here, trying to make breakfast to surprise the beautiful woman I left sleeping in my bed, and you're just _laughing_ at me… so ungrateful," he bemoaned.

Another giggle left her lips and she quickly closed the space between them, hand outstretched. Some part of her needed to feel him, to make sure this wasn't some trick of her mind, that she wasn't lying alone in her bed having a lovely dream. Her fingers met the fabric straps of the silly apron and her heart jumped and it was _real_ and he was there and before she knew it she was pulling him down to her, mouth open and ready.

He didn't falter or flinch, bending down and happily meeting her halfway, lips finding hers in a hungry clash.

It felt even better than it had the night before, because she was totally sober and comfortable and happy and _god_ , he was real and perfect. Her chest felt warm and it traveled down and pooled in her stomach, her desire for him reawakening even though it had been mere hours since they'd last satiated each other. She knew she was probably too sore to go another round right then, but there was no doubt in her mind that she was going to make him feel good again.

Her hands tugged the strings of the apron as their tongues tangled, pulling the fabric down the front of him and then letting it fall to the ground. She let her palms slide down the soft, white shirt until she found the thick elastic waistband of his sweatpants. The muscles of his stomach tensed, so she let the waistband go and instead pushed his shirt up to his sternum, giving him a final nibble on his lip before moving her mouth down to his now exposed skin.

"Fuck," he breathed, chest fluttering beneath her lips.

Her palms slid down his sides, over his narrow hips, and down to the sweatpants again as her mouth kissed and tickled a path, following the happy trail that started below his belly button until she was crouched fully before him, planting her knees on the floor. She glanced up at him, rubbing her face against the front of his pants, where she could feel him hardening beneath her cheek, smiling sweetly.

His pupils were blown wide with obvious want, hands gripping the edge of the counter he was against, mouth wet and open. One of those sweet whimpers that she'd loved hearing during their previous night escaped his throat and she pressed a soft kiss to the sweatpants before grabbing the waistband and pulling them down.

He hadn't bothered with underwear and she was grateful for one less step, smiling happily as his perfect cock was exposed to her, swelling under her sultry gaze. She rubbed her hand up and down the side of his leg, warming it, and then reached up and grasped his thickness, licking her lips as she looked up at him. His eyes were narrow slits, his chest stuttering, watching her while she pumped him, her hand so small but able.

"El…" It was a groan.

"Let me make you feel good," she said breathily. "I want to."

There was no resistance or protest and he only bit his lip, watching, ready for whatever she wanted to do. El kept her eyes on his as she shuffled closer to his stiff manhood, using her hand to position it as she bent her head forward, the musky scent of him filling her nose. She opened her mouth and gave him a single lick across the top of his head, wanting to test his tolerance, and felt him shiver. Instead of taking him in her mouth right away, she decided to tease him a bit, bending down to lick a stripe up the underside of his dick, letting her tongue linger at the top and then doing it again, giving him gentle squeezes with her hand while the other carefully pushed his balls up the double points of stimulation making him stagger.

"Jesus," he gasped.

She grinned, sliding down and then making him grunt as she took his balls into her mouth, oh so gently sucking them while her hand stroked him, using the oozing pre-cum from his tip and her saliva as lube. Her nose nudged his cock playfully and she popped his balls out of her mouth to take a deep breath, her hand never losing its pulsing rhythm, up and down.

He was panting, fingers digging into the countertop, face flushed as he watched her lick the sticky head of his throbbing cock, eyes almost rolling back as she closed her lips around it and finally gave it a strong suck.

"Fuck!"

El grinned, his dick still sticking out of her mouth, and then slowly went down farther, taking him in until his impressive length was half in her mouth, the taste of him slick on her tongue as she breathed through her nose. Their eyes were locked, and she _wanted_ him to see it, to watch her suck his cock. She knew the job might be a struggle since he was so fucking massive in comparison to her small frame, but she decided it would be worth it. Making him lose control and watching his face as he came wasn't just hot—it was _fun_.

With another deep breath, she went down further, feeling the tip of him bump the back of her throat and managing to reign in her gag reflex, wanting to get the last inch in. Her eyes were starting to water, and she let go of his hard length with her hand, gripping his thighs and using it to pull the rest of his aching cock down her throat.

It went in.

"Mmmm," she hummed happily, smiling up at him despite the tears at the corners of her eyes, proud of herself, knowing the feeling of her vibrating throat around him would feel good too.

" _Fuck_!" he yelped. "Holy fucking—!"

She finally pulled back, gasping as his girth left her mouth, a thick string of saliva and pre-cum trailing from her lips to the tip of him, connecting them as she gulped down air. The second her lungs stopped aching she dove back onto him, this time not taking as much but going much more quickly, using her hand to keep every inch of him stimulated. She was vaguely aware of the smell of something burning, but was too focused to care, jamming his dick back into her throat and gagging before pulling back again, knowing it would feel good for him.

 _Anything for him._

Her past relationships had taught her how to be excellent at two things: faking orgasms, and sucking cock.

After the next suck, she dragged the head of him against her cheek, her lips a perfect "O' around his throbbing manhood, eyes blurry from the tears. She kept him in her cheek, bobbing on him over and over, listening as his grunts and whimpers turned into moans and gasps, the sound of his enjoyment motivating her. God, she wanted to him to love what she was doing. Because she was doing it for him.

Her hand found his, still clutching the counter, and she carefully pulled it away and then set it on the back of her head, encouraging him as she swirled her tongue around his cock, wanting him to understand. She knew the only way for him to finish was to go the pace he needed. She needed him to fuck her mouth—no, she _wanted_ him to.

He seemed hesitant, tucking her hair behind her ears and wiping at her watering eyes instead of taking the hint, and she quickly grabbed his other hand too. Stopping or slowing wasn't an option, and she looked up at him and furrowed her brow, trying to tell him it was okay, humming around the girth in her mouth, nodding as she bobbed.

He bit his lip, but then gently tangled his fingers into her curls, letting out a sigh as he began to thrust his hips against her lips, using the leverage she'd given him. His groan turned into a full on moan as she caught on, sucking hard with each pull, his hands gripping harder in her hair, his movements growing faster. It was a beautiful sight to her eyes, his head falling back as he started to lose control, and she loosened her own hold on him, trying to focus on taking small breaths in through her nose between thrusts.

"Fuck, El, your mouth feels so fucking good," he was saying, tilting his head down to look at her, eyes dark and hungry. "You look so fucking beautiful. Sucking my cock. Jesus, look at you, what did I do to deserve this?"

"Hmmm," she moaned, his words turning her on even more as his pace sped up, his dick slamming into her throat with each thrust.

"World's most beautiful woman on her knees, sucking my cock like a goddamn goddess," he panted, fingers digging into her scalp, "letting me fuck her face, how the fuck did this happen, El?"

She wanted to tell him it was because he was the most handsome, most tingle-inducing, most thoughtful man she'd ever seen, that he'd fucked her better than she'd been fucked in her whole life, and that he smart and funny and knew how to dirty talk until she was sopping wet, a combination she hadn't thought possible. Instead she moaned again, eyes blurring with tears, needing to breathe but not giving a fuck because he was close, so close, and she wanted to make him cum so bad, _so so_ bad, right there kneeling on his kitchen floor on Christmas morning.

"Oh fuck, El, I'm gonna blow, you—"

He grunted, trying to pull her off of him, but she wrapped her arms around the backs of his thighs and hung on, determined to see it all the way through. She knew what was coming and she wanted it, just like she had last night.

"Shit, El, fuck! I-I'm—I'm gonna—ah!"

She felt him twitch, his entire length throbbing halfway in her mouth as he abruptly stopped, his swollen tip right at the back of her tongue. God, she was ready.

"Uhhhn!"

It was warm and thick and sticky but she'd known it was coming and quickly swallowed, sucking harder, trying to ignore his hands pulling at her hair and the no so pleasant taste. There was more and more and Jesus, she'd known they'd made a mess last night but it felt like it would never end. It took two more swallows and then he gasped and released his hold on her, his cock already starting to soften as she pulled back, slowly, licking any last drops to keep there from being any need for clean up.

When she finally released him from her greedy mouth, she looked up, unable to keep from smiling at the blissed-out look of contentment on his face. He almost looked sleepy, chest heaving, and El gently tucked him back into his sweatpants before standing up, heart suddenly pounding in her chest with nerves and uncertainty.

She had meant it to be a grateful gesture, to thank him for just… being him. For being kind and good and sweet. For not making her feel insecure or stupid. If anyone deserved the best blowjob she could offer, it was definitely Mike. But the realization that so far they'd mostly only fucked made her feel kind of nervous. What if it had been too much? What if he thought she was only in it for the sex, that she was going to just take what she wanted and leave the rest behind?

What if he didn't like it?

Obviously the sex was great and she didn't particularly want it to stop, but at the same time, she wanted more than that from him. It was nerve-wracking to admit, that the man who should have been a one night stand had captivated not only her body but her heart. And she didn't want to lose her chance by literally blowing it and trying too hard.

"Um…" She stood before him in nothing but his shirt, taking a deep breath. "Was that okay?"

Mike's eyes opened slowly, blinking lazily, and it took a second for him to focus back in on her as he let out a long, contented sigh. A smile twitched his lips as he took in her face, but then it twisted into a frown as his brow puckered and El was sure her heart was about to stop.

"You have—"

 _BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!_

A shrill robotic shriek made them both jump and then El realized the burning smell she'd noticed earlier was the eggs and that they were now _smoking_ and that the fire alarm above them was going off.

"Shit!" Mike yelped, grabbing a _Popular Science_ magazine off the counter and trying to fan away the smoke from the alarm before it set off the sprinklers. El leapt for the stove, grabbing the offending, charred pan and quickly taking it over to the sink, dumping out the contents and then turning on the hot water to try and rinse out the last bit of smoking eggs. They were lucky it hadn't caught on fire and burned the whole place down.

She turned back to Mike who had managed to get the alarm to stop screaming, feeling stupid and ashamed. What had she been thinking? Distracting him while he was cooking over an open flame?!

"I… am _so_ sorry," she started to say.

There wasn't a chance to finish because he promptly grabbed her pulled her towards and him kissed her, pulling back after a second to grab a paper towel and then wipe her chin and eyes, which were still damp. She froze, staring up at him, unsure how to react.

"You had, uh, cum all over your chin, and I was going to tell you but the, uh—" He glanced towards the sink where the pan was still sizzling, smiling good-humoredly until he realized she still looked glum. "But hey, please, don't ever apologize ever again because with the exception of last night, that's the best thing that's ever happened to me—and I'm including getting my degree _and_ finding out I was going to be a big brother." He reached out, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her closer. "I'd burn every fucking egg in this building if it meant something like that would happen again."

He was ridiculous and she wrinkled her nose at his cheesy but sweet words, standing up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. His hands didn't let her go and he deepened it, kissing her like his life depended on it, making her gasp against him in surprise before he finally released her.

"So, um, yeah, thanks for… for the best blowjob of my life. I feel bad I don't have breakfast for you now… those were actually my last two eggs," he looked sheepish, keeping an arm around her waist so she was still splayed against him as he leaned back against the counter, comfortable in each other's embrace.

She cocked an eyebrow, finding his embarrassment cute. "You still have Eggos, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

"That's all I need, but I wouldn't mind if you hurried because you wore me out last night and I'm fucking _starving_ ," she teased.

"As you wish," he said dramatically, leading her over to the small two-person table and pulling out a chair for her, grinning happily as she took a seat.

She watched as he pulled the box from the freezer and fired up the toaster, getting out peanut butter, syrup, jelly, and regular butter. Instead of leaving them plain, he made each waffle differently, even digging out a bag of chocolate chips. It reminded her of the night before at the bar when he'd gone an extra mile to make her something special.

 _So it's not just a one time thing_ , she mused.

Part of her was still unsure. She felt so at ease around him, and so far he hadn't given her a reason to feel otherwise. Everything about how he was was just so… easy. Comfortable, maybe. And the second she wasn't comfortable, he seemed to notice and immediately did the right thing to make her feel better. It was… weird. Like some sort of romcom scenario. Surely it couldn't last.

But she wanted it to.

They had their "date" tonight, at her place, and she mentally checked her cupboards to make sure she had some sort of sauce to go with the campanelle she knew she had. But she didn't have any wine, which was a shame. Hopefully he wouldn't mind. Last night he'd sounded so excited at the thought of them going on a date, and sure, it would probably be more personal and intimate than a real date, but considering that he'd already seen every inch of her body, it didn't seem too odd.

 _No sex tonight_ , she told herself. _You have to actually talk to him and pay attention. It's not fair to just demand sex_.

Even though he was so fucking _good_ at it. None of her previous partners had ever managed to make her… do anything she'd done last night. Other than the one time Blake had accidentally got it right and then had seemed upset she'd screamed so much. She failed to remember why she'd dated him in the first place.

No, Mike was different. And that sounded cliche but it was just true. He wasn't like any man she'd been interested in before, both in looks and personality. Where had he come from? She needed to delve deeper into that and their dinner tonight sounded like the perfect way to get to know the man who could make her soak her panites _and_ feel wanted all at the same time. Instead of feeling nervous or afraid to get close… she wanted to. She wanted to know as much as she could about him, to find out everything and hold it close.

And _that_ scared her.

"And, here it is!" Mike announced loudly, turning from the counter to face her with a grin and holding a ridiculous amount of plates full of and more ridiculous amount of Eggos. "I realized I don't know what you like on your waffles so I did a little bit of everything…" He set down the plates in front of her on the table. "There's peanut butter, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and syrup, butter and syrup, chocolate chips and whipped cream, and peanut butter and chocolate chip…" His brow furrowed. "I really hope you like peanut butter…"

"Peanut butter is good," she laughed, reaching for the PB&J waffle and taking a big bite.

It washed the less pleasant aftertaste of her earlier actions out of her mouth and she sighed happily, unable to keep from smiling at the delicious taste of the waffle. Every kind she tried was good, and he joined in eating the massive spread he'd prepared, the two quiet as they ate.

El was too hungry to focus on anything but the food but Mike didn't seem to mind. If anything he seemed pleased that she was scarfing down what he'd made, content with her happiness. She let her eyes wander around the kitchen, taking in the chipped tile countertop and ancient fridge, the linoleum that peeled off the floor in one corner. It was definitely not one of the nicer apartments she'd seen, but it was clean, at least, some dishes air-drying on a rack next to the sink and a few small rugs covering the worst parts of the floor. His room had been more fascinating, with all the figurines, but she noticed a Star Wars oven mitt hanging on the side of the fridge.

Her eyes focused in on the fridge, which was covered in magnets and pictures. Some polaroids, some glossy shots, notes, and scraps of papers with drawings. The photos were mishmash, three other young men reappearing the most, as well as pretty brunette and a younger looking blonde, who she figured must be his sisters. He had a whole life outside of this tiny apartment, and she couldn't help but frown and look away, wondering why he was still interested in making new connections when he had so many that were… good.

Her own life seemed dull in comparison, blighted by the loss of the only two who truly loved her. After her father's death she'd struggled to keep the friends she had as a child, the other kids in her class shying away from her grief—not because they didn't like her but because they didn't understand. And then her mother had… died, honestly, in all ways but the true way, making her even more of a pariah. A rumor, her name whispered with pity, sad eyes turned her way. It hadn't helped that Brenner had put her into a small private school until she'd graduated from high school, keeping her more isolated. College had been… staying in dorm room at all times when she wasn't in a lecture and working tirelessly. So tirelessly she'd managed to graduate three semesters early and get into grad school a mere three months later, finishing with her doctorate by age twenty-five. So yes, she hadn't really tried that hard to keep up her relationships, but to be fair none of them had ever been so amazing that she'd _wanted_ to.

It wasn't her fault they all ended at Christmas though, that was just bad, ironic timing.

A hand nudged her and she blinked, looking back across the table at Mike, who was munching a waffle and looking concerned. "You okay? You're like… glaring at my fridge."

"Oh." She blinked again, not wanting to confess her sad thoughts, grasping for a half-truth that would make sense. "Um, I was just thinking I don't have any wine to go with the pasta tonight. My house is lacking in alcohol, which is why I was out last night…"

"I'm glad you were," he said through a mouthful of waffle and peanut butter, his words a bit skewed, "because if you hadn't I'd be sitting here eating all these Eggos by myself and how sad would that be?"

"You also wouldn't have had that all amazing sex," she deadpanned back, casually eating her own waffle.

He choked, immediately coughing, and then proceeded to cough and wheeze hack and attempt to dislodge the crumb of waffle he'd inhaled in shock as El cackled at him from behind her hand, his reaction too good not to giggle at. It was like he was bashful about their sexual encounters—though a very willing participant.

"Sorry," she laughed, "it was too good."

"You'll be sorry when you have to haul me to the nearest hospital," he wheezed, wiping his eyes, finally at the end of the violent hacking spell. "Jesus."

"Is it embarrassing or something? That we had sex?"

"What?! _No_!" He was blushing despite his denial. "I'm just not… used to talking about it, I guess. My friends just give me shit and my sisters don't want to know and the two women I've been with… didn't care to discuss," he told her honestly. "Having sex is one thing. Talking about it is another."

" _Why_? If you were anywhere as amazing as you were last night, those lucky bitches should have been fucking thanking you. You're like some sort of sex wizard or something."

"A paladin, actually," he blurted. Then he turned a violent shade of red, shaking his head. "I shouldn't mention D&D to women I'm interested in, I swear I know that, but I suck so bad…"

D&D. It took a moment for her brain to translate it to Dungeons and Dragons, a game she'd heard about somehow, she was sure, but couldn't quite remember how. Something about roleplaying and and rolling dice and a bunch of geeks sitting around a table. She grinned conspiratorially, giving him a look that made him even more embarrassed. So he played D&D and was an IT guy and had a room full of figurines and posters and—

It dawned on her.

"Oh my god, you're like, a _nerd_ , aren't you? Like all geeky and dorky?!" she exclaimed. "You and your friends… am I wrong?"

He groaned, slumping in his chair and resting his forehead in his palm, like he was too ashamed to look her in the face. "I should not have said that."

"Oh my god I'm right!"

"Yes," he moaned, daring to peek at her beneath his dark bangs. "Let me guess, you're repulsed and never want to have sex with me again?"

At that she laughed, thinking back to her high school experience and remembering the odd division between those good at school and those who were attractive and popular. Few managed both, and her dedication to her homework and classes had caused her to be labeled a nerd more than once, even though she'd never hung out at that table either. If he was smart, that was _good_. Being around another idiot held little appeal.

And it's not like he was a _loser_ or some shrimpy unappealing know-it-all. He was tall and broad and had a cock that made her cry out to every god in the universe. Who the fuck cared if he was a nerd? He was hot and sweet and funny and charming and made her feel happy and comfortable and _safe_. If anything it only made him more attractive, knowing he could actually figure things out and be accountable.

"I would have sex you with again on this table this very second if you really wanted," she shot back. "But honesty, I'm tired and hungry and I want to finish breakfast. Is that okay?"

He gaped at her, eyes wide, and then that look—the one that had puzzled her last night too—filled his eyes and he nodded.

" _Please_ , I made you breakfast to try and say thank you for even being here. I'm just glad you like it."

"I like you," she said, shrugging but feeling serious at the same time.

Her heart started pounding with nerves and she realized what she had just said, had admitted. That she liked him, like… really truly liked him.

 _You could love him_ , something deep inside whispered. _You could fall in love with him today._

She inhaled sharply, shaking her head, "Um, I know I sound like some dumbass high schooler—"

"I like you too," he interrupted, bashful but sincere, his dark eyes meeting hers. "I was kind of hoping asking you on a date made that obvious but, um, you seem to like to be more upfront than that. I really like you, Eleven Hopper."

There was a sudden internal gasp as she realized she didn't even know his last name. So far he'd just been… Mike.

"Mike?" Her voice cracked and his teasing glow softened as he sensed her sudden insecurity. "I don't know your last name. Or where you're from… what your favorite food is or color or—" She cut herself off, taking a deep breath. "Sorry, I just—"

"It's Wheeler. Michael Edward Wheeler." His brow dipped, and he bit his lip, like he was worried, before continuing. "Um, I don't have a favorite food, really, I like all food. And I like blue. And it's okay that you didn't ask… I kind of just came at you last night."

She snorted at that, shaking her head, "Are you kidding? I came at _you_. Both literally and figuratively. I just feel kind of bad since you're out here making me breakfast and I can't even—"

"Hey, don't feel bad. Or I'll feel bad," he countered. "And if I feel bad I'll be totally pitiful and obnoxious and you don't want that. Besides, you can ask me now." He shrugged, a grin teasing his mouth. "I'm really glad you didn't stop me in the middle of eating you out to ask me my favorite color."

"I don't think I was capable of even knowing _my_ favorite color at that point," she laughed, "which is pink by the way."

"Oh, good to know. What kind of wine do you like?"

"Umm… any kind. What about you?"

"I prefer red, but I'm more of an IPA guy. Or whiskey."

They finished their breakfast, throwing questions back and forth, and El let the knot of worry in her chest loosen. It felt like she was jumping into everything too quickly. Maybe it should have just been a one night stand, but she had decided—though she couldn't quite pinpoint when—that she wanted more. And finding out he liked tea more than coffee, that he had a habit of jiggling his leg up and down when he was nervous, that he thought Star Wars was superior to any and all movies… it made her feel more relaxed to know he was just as much into learning about her as she was about him.

"—so that's how Lucas met Dustin, and the four of us managed to like," he snickered, "cry loud enough that a teacher noticed and made Tory and James stop beating the shit out of us. Sometimes. They were pretty good at sneaking up on us."

"Wow, they must have had some complex issues. Violence at that young of age usually means the upbringing was either volatile or lacking. Or both."

He cocked an eyebrow, head tilted inquisitively, "You sound like you know a lot about that."

"Oh, well—yeah, I'm a child psychiatrist. Mostly for kids in the system but I also work with the kids of… what you could call _affluent_ , people in the city," she told him easily. "I have about ten kids I see regularly every week or so and then I also work with one of the foster systems for the government and I meet with as many kids as they need me to every week."

"So…" He gave her a discerning look. "The foster work is kind of charity, and you make crazy money off of the rich people?"

She couldn't help but flush. "I—Well, yeah I suppose. I try to… charge what can be afforded, and all the kids get help and that's what's important. That they're heard and listened to and I can try and help them.."

"You're good with kids… that's cute," he stated. "I thought about being a teacher for a while, but it doesn't pay very well." At that he snorted, falling back into his chair and sighing. "I mean, since I'm being paid so well now!"

"That's something you could still do. Go back to school, get a degree in teaching and take the Praxis. They always need teachers."

"Maybe…"

He was staring off into space, like he was actually contemplating her words and what his future could be. Then his eyes drifted back to her, and he smiled sort crookedly, somehow soft and adorable but conniving all the same.

"You could call me Mr. Wheeler, Miss Hopper," he teased.

"That's _Doctor_ Hopper to you, sir," she shot back. "I'll show you my official, framed doctorate when you come over tonight."

There was a pause and El suddenly remembered she needed to go home at some point and take a shower and clean up her place. Hopefully the heat was working… her brownstone had been cheap because it was damn near ancient and half the appliances hadn't been replaced yet and the furnace was broken half the time and she would have relight her pilot light in her water-heater at least once a month—not the mention the creaky floorboards. It was a bit of fixer-upper still, but it was home and she made do with space heaters, keeping a handyman on speed dial just in case a pipe broke or something else she couldn't fix herself with the help of Google and her toolbox.

Her eyes found a clock on the wall, noting it was well past eleven, and she frowned, wondering how time had flown by so quickly. She needed to head home soon, she couldn't remember if she had put fresh water out for Gilbert. He hated tepid water and had the tendency to knock the whole bowl over if she didn't change it often enough for his tastes. She really needed to get around to ordering one of those cat drinking fountain things…

Blinking out of her thoughts, she noticed she'd been staring at him and he'd been staring back and he blinked too, looking away quickly and she flushed and god damn it, why was he so cute? She really didn't _want_ to leave, but the thought of her house in disarray and her cat sitting by the door waiting for her—along with the promise of seeing Mike again in a few hours—motivated her enough to sit up straight.

"Um, speaking of tonight… my place is in desperate need of some cleaning and I need to shower _very_ badly so, I think I might head home."

There was a flash of disappointment in his eyes that was quickly swallowed by understanding and he nodded, sitting up and grabbing the plates and stacking them. "Yeah, of course, basic needs of life and whatnot. Um, can I ask where you live?"

"Considering you're coming over in like seven hours, you probably _should_ ask," she snickered, getting up to help him by grabbing the last plate and walking with him toward the sink. "Um, your place of employment is about six blocks north of the row of brownstones I live in, the ones that look like—"

"They're going to fall over?" His eyes lit up. "Yeah, I know where you're talking about. So fancy."

"I'll text you my exact address too, um, once I find my phone…"

"It's in your purse which is hanging with your coat by the front door." His hands were full of wet dishes but he jerked his chin towards the door of his apartment. "Everything should be in it, I don't think you left anything at the bar… but I can always get in there if you did. It's closed today but I have a key."

She smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Mike."

Sure enough, her little clutch was hanging with her coat, her keys and wallet and phone all tucked inside. Her phone battery was low, but there was enough for her to call an Uber and she almost hit the confirmation button before realizing she was still wearing nothing but Mike's shirt.

 _Shit_.

The thought of putting her dress and boots back on held little appeal. God, she hadn't done a walk of shame in _so_ long… and panty-less at that. There was little point in trying to pretend wouldn't look gross. Better to get it over with.

Heading back into his room, she gazed longingly at the warm bed before sliding the shirt off and folding it and setting it on his dresser. The room smelled like him, some sort of Old Spice or Axe—and laundry and books and even a little bit of musky man-smell. She was tempted to keep the shirt, so she could bury her nose in it and remember Mike and all they'd done together. Keep a little piece of him.

But he was coming over later, she reminded herself as she bent over, totally naked, and picked her dress up off the floor, giving it a good shake and then a once over. It was still pretty cute, and the crushed velvet didn't wrinkle which was handy since it had spent the night on the floor in a crumpled mess. Her panties were just gross and she sighed and set them on the dresser before pulling the dress back on over her head, the cups of the fitted bodice covering her and the fabric falling back down her legs. At least it was comfortable.

There was the sound of a throat being cleared and she whipped around to see Mike, standing in the doorway, his eyes dark, pupils wide, staring at her. She realized he must have watched her change, and maybe that would have been creepy if she hadn't begged him to undress her the night before. He cleared his throat again and looked towards his messy bed and then at the dresser.

"Did you want to borrow something warmer? It's freezing out there…" He went to the dresser and dug out a pair of grey sweatpants with a tie-string waistband. "I know they'll be long but you could roll them up? I have some sweatshirts if you want to keep the shirt on too. Or a hoodie maybe?"

El couldn't help but laugh, though she was touched. "You trying to mark your territory or something? Cover me in your clothes?"

He jerked to look at her, eyebrows climbing his forehead. "No! Oh fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

"No, no, Mike it's okay, I was joking. I'd appreciate it, actually, I wasn't really looking forward to wearing this home. Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yeah! Of course. It's like _really_ cold outside and you're not all drunk and warm…" He fussed in his closet before choosing a navy blue zip up hoodie and handing them to her along with the Star Wars shirt she'd originally chosen. "I didn't think that was like… territorial," he confessed, looking abashed. "Sorry if I made you feel that way."

She took the clothes, shaking her head, feeling bad for even making the joke in the first place.

"No, Mike, I was seriously just teasing you. I didn't think you actually thought that. I dated a guy who wouldn't let me wear his clothes… I guess I'm just a little surprised you're—" She let out a sharp breath, looking down quickly. "You're so… nice. Or generous, maybe. I wasn't expecting it but it's nice."

There was a pause and she glanced up at him, noticing how he seemed to not know what to say to that. She had a feeling it was just how he was. Offering help and whatever he had. He had a generous soul and that was… good. For once she was with someone who wasn't just _taking_. He was a giver and it made her want to give back, whatever little bit she could.

Maybe it couldn't be _everything_ —not yet, at least, she'd only know him for maybe fourteen hours, had only learned his last name an hour ago. But whatever she could give… she wanted him to have it.

With a grin, she stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks for not being a dick," she beamed, before letting it turn into a smirk, eyebrow raising cockily. "You want to watch me get naked again?"

His nerves seemed to break and he grinned widely.

"Oh, yes _please_."

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _I'm realizing just how much I lose my mind over these characters. There will never be another couple as good as Mileven, that's just facts._**

 ** _I'd appreciate a review for a little motivation. I got a lot of hits last time but not as many reviews and I'm always unsure if that's good or not? I suppose I like to please too much. But I also don't have any of the next chapter started and I'm a little unsure of exactly how I want it to end, so a little kind motivation would be appreciated. Let me know if you liked something!_**

 ** _See you before Christmas (I hope)._**

 ** _~SP_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN:**_

 _ **Merry Christmas! It's still Christmas here, so I'm considering this my gift to you all. It's a little rushed so please forgive any errors.**_

* * *

The hot water poured down her spine, soaking her mess of curls in an instant as El stepped into her shower, letting out a loud sigh of contentment as her foot left the cold tile of the bathroom floor and was immersed in hot water. Steam billowed from behind the curtain, quickly filling the medium-sized room, but considering it was the only source of heat in her house, she decided to let it be.

Her Uber driver had dropped her off an hour ago, after a brief stop at a convenience mart she'd managed to find open on Christmas day, and she'd spent the better part of that hour in the unfinished brick basement, poking at her furnace and scowling. It had decided that it didn't care that she was having a guest over, it wasn't going to work. And her handyman was, of course, not on call that day.

So she'd preheated her oven in the hope it might warm up the kitchen, and then gone upstairs and cranked up the space heater in her room, leaving the door open so it could at least get the hallway to a decent temperature. It didn't help that winter had decided it was January instead of December, with a below zero wind chill that rattled the windows and seeped in under her front door.

In other words, her house was fucking _freezing_ and despite the cozy layers Mike had wrapped her in before she'd left, she was shivering. Her hot water was still working, thankfully, and the oven and stove worked so she would be able to cook dinner but… it was still a little embarrassing. Mike's apartment had been tiny and a little dingey, but at least his heating had worked.

She'd actually texted him a few minutes ago, letting him know the situation and offering to reschedule their dinner date to another day when her house wasn't an ice castle—though she wanted anything but that. Part of her already missed him, that weird part that had told her earlier that she could fall in love with him. The part of her that wasn't _careful_.

Her phone buzzed right then, interrupting her doubtful thoughts, and she bit her lip, glancing to where she'd left it on the counter by the sink. Part of her wanted to get out immediately and read what he'd said, see what he thought. If he was going to take the rather convenient way out of having to see her again.

Maybe he was already regretting it, their night and morning together. Maybe he was realizing he didn't need another complication in his life, another way to waste time and money. He had enough going on without throwing in a needy, insecure woman who demanded sex more than emotions and had abandonment issues.

Surely he was realizing his mistake.

There was another vibration and El bit her lip, shaking her head at herself as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair. Jumping out of the shower to check her phone was stupid, she could finish what she needed to do first. It's not like she was some dumb teenager texting back her crush.

Right?

Her hands reached for the conditioner as her stubbornness won out, ignoring the phone to finish what she needed to do, though she couldn't pretend like she didn't go more quickly than usual, nicking herself shaving in her haste. When it was done, she stepped from the shower and wrapped her hair up, bent over when she heard her phone buzz again with another incoming message. She quickly stood up, balancing one towel on her head and then wrapping her body with another, taking the two steps to her phone and unlocking it, spotting his name on the screen in a second, heart racing with excitement. There were multiple text bubbles.

 _I don't mind a little cold if you don't. If it's cool, I'll still come over later._

 _The pun was unintentional lol_

 _Or was it?_

Then there was a picture, of Mike bundled up to the extreme, wearing at least two jackets, a hat beneath a hood, and with three scarves wrapped around his throat, his face barely visible as he grinned at the camera on his phone. El snorted out a laugh.

 _Finally figured out what I'm wearing tonight. What do you think? Too casual?_

 _God, sorry for spamming with you texts. I don't blame you for me ignoring me._

She smiled at her phone, sensing her own insecurity in his words, quickly texting back.

 _Sorry! I wasn't ignoring you, I promise, I just got out of the shower._

The little bubble with the three bouncing lines appeared almost instantly, then disappeared, then appeared again.

 _I'm trying to think of a way to respond to that without coming off creepy. I hope it went well?_

She laughed at that outright, a snort leaving her nose.

 _It went amazingly well. Also to respond to your earlier questions, you can still come over today. The coat isn't a bad idea but I sure hope you aren't wearing that much clothing._

Her finger hit send and then she flinched, frowning at herself for making it sexual when he specifically had tried to avoid it. Fuck… it was just so easy with him. Being away from him only solidified in her mind how attracted she was to him, the thought of his handsome face looking down at her, his firm chest beneath her hands, _his_ hands on her waist… it made her shiver and then sigh with longing.

 _If that's a request I will happily oblige. It's the least I can do since you're going to feed me._

 _And I'm going to make you freeze your ass off,_ she shot back _, so honestly you can wear as many clothes as you need. We might end up sitting in the kitchen by the open oven door to keep warm._

Suddenly she remembered her living room, rarely used since she never had guests over, and quickly sent another text before he could respond.

 _Actually, I have an ancient fireplace that's cozy if you don't mind sitting on the floor?_

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

 _Like a picnic? Sounds fun. Definitely better than freezing my ass off._

 _Even though I have a feeling we'll find a way to keep warm._

El couldn't keep from smiling, letting a little tremor of happiness shiver through her at his flirty words. Her worry that he would regret their time together melted completely and she texted back a winking face and then a little emoji going "shhh" before setting her phone down on the counter and taking the towel off of her head, thinking about what she would need to light up the fireplace.

The stack of wood next to it was getting low but there would be enough, and she had matches and kindling. Luckily, she'd splurged on a thick, white, wool skin fur rug back in October. It was soft and circular and she'd spent a decent amount of time on it in front of a roaring fire with a book and Gilbert curled up next to her, his black fur a splash of contrast against the rug.

Speaking of Gilbert, she hadn't caught sight of him yet, but considering how frigid the house had been when she'd got back, she wasn't surprised. He was probably curled up in pile of blankets somewhere, maybe in the laundry basket. Certainly not in any of his fancy cat beds she had spent money on.

Thinking of his tiny, furry face with his little white chin and paws made her feel guilty again for abandoning him. Not that he'd cared, of course. Or maybe he was ignoring her to punish her, which was plausible since he was a _cat_ after all. Which made it all the more stupid to feel guilty, but when it came down to it, he was the only male who'd stayed with her longer than two years.

He'd been a tiny, flea-bitten ball of black and white fur and when she'd found him screaming in the back alley of her apartment building. She'd been in the midst of her doctoral program and stressed out of her mind and then suddenly there was someone in front of her who was struggling more than her. And yet after a can of cat food and a warm bath, he'd curled up on top and purred, looking up at her with big, yellow orbs full of _love_. He'd been a lover from the start and though he had his moods, it was usually after she'd been gone too long because he would miss her so much.

So she'd named him after the love interest of her favorite fictional character of all time, the book series she reread year after year. And Gilbert became part of her life so easily, keeping the loneliness just enough at bay over the past two years that she'd been able to finish school, find a job, get a house, and… remember she was lonely. Because she loved her cat, but in the end he was a cat and he made her happy but he was a _cat_.

And she'd met someone who made her stupidly happy who wasn't covered in fur and it was fair to give him a chance, right?

Speaking of Mike… She needed to get a move on. Her hair was dry enough to blow dry and she dug out the tool and her products and got to work, taming the frizz from her curls. Makeup felt a little excessive, but she decided a bit of mascara and brows and a tiny line of mascara would keep her from feeling slobby. It was sort of weird, how they'd bypassed that part where you tried to impress the person you liked. But considering he'd already seen her face bare and red and crying as she sucked his dick, she figured he didn't really care at this point if her eyelids weren't gold and her lips weren't red.

Leaving the bathroom wrapped in her robe, she quickly scurried to her room and slid into a pair of leggings and baggy sweatshirt, going over to her bed and finding her purring furball curled up beneath her comforter.

"There you are," she cooed, giving him scratches and kisses and pets before dragging him out from under the covers so she could actually make the bed. "We're having a guest so you better be on your best behavior."

"Mrow?"

"Just don't bite him, okay?"

Gilbert stared up at her for a second before blinking indifferently and sneaking from the room as she finished her task. She frowned at the amount of hair and fuzz on her hardwood floors, sighing as she went and got the vacuum cleaner, realizing she wouldn't be happy until every speck of dust in the entire house was gone.

It took her two hours to dust and do the floors upstairs and down, and another hour to clean the bathroom and kitchen. The fireplace was soon utterly spotless, and she managed to get a good blaze going, before looking down at the rug where she'd decided they would spend the evening. Mike had said something about it being a picnic and she'd rather liked the idea, deciding to go dig out one of the large blankets from the basement storage and maybe throw a load of laundry in while she was down there.

Unfortunately, she couldn't find her box of blankets, digging through the piles of tubs and opening each one until she'd made it to the very back corner, spotting the clear plastic container she'd been looking for. There was a cardboard box on top and she went to move it, until her eyes caught sight of the black scribbled writing across the flap and she felt her heart squeeze tightly inside of her chest.

It was one word, "Christmas", but it was the handwriting that had made her pause, the badly drawn loops and letters so familiar despite having not seen it in years. Her dad's handwriting, preserved on top of a beat-up cardboard box, something she didn't even remember taking when she'd moved out, something that had sat in storage for the past five years, waiting until she had her own house, waiting to be seen again. It's existence defied logic, considering how much she hated the stupid holiday, but at the same time she knew that the handwriting alone would have kept her from tossing it out.

With shaking hands, she reached out, carefully unfolding the dusty flaps and coughing as it sent up a cloud of particles, caught in the sunbeam from the single window. Inside sat relics from her childhood, the stockings that used to hang from the mantle, crumpled garlands of fake greenery with red velvet bows, a box of old glass ornaments from the '50s passed down from her great-grandma. And figurines, tiny church mice carolers, porcelain snowmen with felt top hats, feathered cardinals holding stalks of holly, and—

" _Here, Eleven, you get Santa," Jim Hopper said, grinning down at his small daughter as she took the Santa figure from her mother, who watched them with a smile._

 _She was seven, still small enough to believe in the magic of Christmas, still happy and content with her parents. Giggling, she ran to her father, who snatched her up and swung her around, growling and tickling her as she screamed with delight, laughing, "Daddy! Daddy no!" until he finally stopped and set her on top of his shoulders as they neared the Christmas tree, the tallest one they had been able to find. It towered over the tall man, but his daughter could just reach the top, carefully placing the red-robed man on the highest point of the tree, smoothing down the white beard and hat with small, gentle hands._

" _Okay, Daddy, Santa's happy."_

" _Good job, princess," he grunted, carefully extracting her from his shoulders. "You're so good at decorating, better than Mommy even."_

 _El smiled up at her dad as he set her on the ground, tilting her head as he let out a wheezing breath, setting a hand over his chest._

" _Watch your mouth, Jim," Terry grinned at her husband. Her smile turned into a frown as she noticed his labored breathing. "You okay, honey?"_

 _It took a moment but he nodded, clearly out of breath. "I'm fine," he waved it off, turning back to Eleven and ruffling her curls. "Didn't you say you made Santa some cookies? Let's go get them ready for him."_

" _Okay, Daddy!"_

In a painful rush the memory ended and El gasped, eyes filling with tears, falling onto her knees as a sob racked her chest. Curling into a ball, she let the grief that had been silent for so many years fill her, let the sorrow in again as she mourned her family and all she had lost. Sure, the assholes she'd dated always broke up with her in December and that sucked, but in truth, she hated Christmas because it reminded her of what she would never have again.

A family. A home. A place where she felt safe and loved, with the people who cared about her the most.

And fuck it _hurt_.

After her mother's attempt, El had thrown herself into school, finishing high school with a 4.0 GPA and the highest SAT score in the state of Illinois. She knew the second she turned eighteen she would be on her own, that her step-father's money would no longer pay for her, and she didn't want to ever have to rely on him again. She'd earned her way into college, grad school, and her doctoral program, never pausing to really mourn the loss of her family. Leaving Mama with Aunt Becky had been the best choice, even if it had caused her to lose her good standing with her last remaining relative. There had been nowhere to move but forward, so she'd run headfirst into the future she knew she wanted, hoping to get away from the pain of her past.

It hadn't worked. It always found her in the end, reminded her she was unlovable and alone. Even those who had seemed to want her hadn't, and if Christmas was _anything_ … it was a reminder of that. Everything she couldn't have.

"Prrrp!"

Something soft headbutted her hand and she gasped between sobs, looking up to see Gilbert, who was rubbing his head against her leg and hand, purring softly and chirping. It took her a second to process it, but then she grabbed him, holding him to her chest as she sobbed, salty tears on silky fur, shaking and crying as he gently licked her fingers. It took a few minutes but he was patient, letting her cry until she could only hiccup, the tears spent as she let the last of it out.

Realizing she was almost suffocating her cat, El quickly let him go, sniffling and wiping her eyes on her sweatshirt. "Sorry, Gil, I guess I needed that."

"Mrrrrrr," he agreed, licking the fur she had ruffled back down from a safe distance away.

"No wonder I avoided looking at this stuff… I thought it had stayed with Aunt Becky but I guess I kept it?" She wiped her nose and sniffled again before getting on her knees and looking back into the box. "It's kind of ironic I found it today, huh? Christmas miracle or some bullshit."

Gilbert was too busy cleaning his face but paused to look at her before blinking and going back to his task, delicately licking his paw and dragging it over his ears. El watched him for a second before looking back into the box, her emotional epiphany leading her to an idea that… could be too much but was also a kind of fun. Or at least thoughtful.

"Y'know," she told her uninterested cat, "Mike said he hated this Christmas because he would have to be alone. But if he isn't going to be alone, he would probably like it."

Her hand found the Santa from all her childhood memories, gently stroking the red velvet of his robe, the soft white fur and cotton, the detailing of the stitching on the bag of toys he held. His face had that same jolly grin, nose and cheeks tinted pink, eyes scrunched up in painted laughter. Always the same.

"Well, thanks for not fucking me over with my choice last night. I'll admit, I wasn't sure what the idea was," she narrowed her eyes. She hadn't forgotten her drunken conversation with Mr. Kringle. "But I think I get it. You want me to stop blaming Christmas for my own emotional constipation. That's fair." Pulling back, she nodded, looking between the cat and the inanimate object she'd been talking to. "I guess it's time to do something for someone else and stop being a little bitch."

At that Gilbert stopped washing, letting out a little noise that El decided to take as agreement. With a nod, she stood, reaching down to pick up the box of Christmas decorations, deciding sitting in her cold basement and crying was a waste of time when she could be productive and start her newly formed plan.

She had a lot to do.

* * *

When the doorbell rang, El was still stirring the alfredo sauce, but quickly set the spoon down and scurried to the door, throwing it open with a grin. Yes, she'd seen him just that morning, but she was so excited that she barely resisted the urge to throw herself at him. Which ended up being a wise decision since he was holding a bottle of wine of that probably would have ended up shattered up at their feet.

"Hi!" she said breathlessly. "Or, uh, welcome to my house!"

Mike looked surprised at her enthusiasm, but then quickly matched it with his own grin, tugging at his sweater and giving her a quick up and down. She'd gone more casual, a pair of fitted jeans and an emerald green long sleeve v-neck, hidden under a long, loose grey cardigan to help fight off the chill that still filled her house. Her hair was loose, cascading down her shoulders from a side part, the curls a bit messy, and she reached up to tug at one as he assessed her.

"Hey, you look great. Wow," he glanced around. "You sure I don't have the wrong house? Because this can't be the same woman who agreed to come home with me last night."

"Oh shut up," she laughed, reaching out and grabbing his arm to pull him.

He smiled crookedly but let himself be tugged into the small entry area as she shut the door behind him, taking off his coat and hanging it on the rack and then taking off his shoes. All at once she remembered her alfredo sauce.

"Shit!"

She ran back to the kitchen, abandoning her guest and quickly stirring the pot of creamy white sauce again, breathing a sigh of relief when it became obvious it hadn't burned. The campanelle was sitting in it's pot, cooked to al dente perfection, waiting to be eaten. Mike followed her after a moment, coming in behind her just as she opened up the tiny jar of truffle salt and began to liberally add it to the alfredo, wrinkling her nose at the stinky smell.

"Um, I want to say it smells amazing but…" Mike's voice came over her shoulder and she glanced over as he came up behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of him.

"It's the truffles. It smells pretty bad right now, but it'll taste amazing." She leaned back, just enough to make contact with the front of his sweater, inhaling a bit as his comforting smell filled her nose, musky and spicy, drowning out the truffle stench. "You'll just have to trust me."

"Gladly…"

His arms surrounded her waist, encouraged by her contact, and he stepped even closer, so they were flush against each other. El let out a contented sigh, making sure to continue her stirring, throwing in some garlic powder and more parmesan cheese, but melted back against him at the same time. He nuzzled his chin against her head, and she felt him press a soft kiss at her crown before he started swaying, the gesture so sweet and comforting and… _him_. If any other man she'd dated or been close to had ever done such a thing, she would have felt uncomfortable. But it was Mike and if he'd done anything but come into the kitchen and touch her, she would have assumed he was no longer interested in her.

She was kind of touchy-feely anyways. Holding hands and cuddling and being close to someone had always been her favorite thing. Physical contact was just so important. How else was she supposed to know if someone actually liked her more than just… normally? It felt nice _and_ it meant something.

And Mike took the hints wonderfully. His arms weren't buff, but they were solid and warm and she let herself be swayed, pushing back against him and sighing happily, the only sound the faint music coming from the speaker in the living room. Which reminded her of the surprise she had waiting for him.

"Okay, you have to let me go so I can plate our food," she said as she wiggled a bit, hands still too busy cooking to give him a more solid hint.

"I would argue, but I'm hungry and I find it hard to say no to you."

He let his arms drop slowly, hands tracing down her sides before he stepped back, and she threw a flirty smirk at him over her shoulder. "Really?"

"Yeah…" He flushed a bit. "I mean, for the most part everything you suggest is usually a good idea anyways but…"

"But?"

His eyes dropped and he shrugged, not looking upset but maybe uncertain. "You just have a way of saying things… I don't know, it sounds stupid out loud. But it's just hard. I like making you happy more than I like telling you no."

She turned back to the stove, not having a clue how to respond to that or even how to take it. It seemed like a good thing but she wasn't sure. Was she falling for a pushover? Or did he actually like her so much he wanted to make her happy… for no reason? A pang of uncertainty made her flinch as she grabbed the handle of the sauce pot and proceeded to dump it over the noodles, stirring the alfredo in with deliberate, self-conscious movements.

"Bottle opener is in the drawer next to the sink and wine glasses are above the espresso machine, if you don't mind?" Her voice felt too high, but she looked back at him over her shoulder and threw him a smile. "Team effort is appreciated."

"Yeah!" He'd seemed to be stuck but she unglued him with her words. "Yeah, of course, sorry, I was worried I'd made it awkward."

"Well… maybe a bit," she admitted as she portioned out the pasta into the waiting dishes on the counter, "but I'd prefer awkward to asshole. Or… ghosting. Awkward means you care, at least. It means you want things to feel right."

There was a soft _pop_ as he opened the wine, and she glanced over as he proceeded to fill up the two tall glasses with the red liquid, filling them both halfway. He was focused on his task but he seemed to hear her, and she went back to her own task, sprinkling the food with parmesan and a bit of parsley to make it look pretty.

"I do care. In case you weren't sure." He didn't look up as he finished pouring the second glass. "Like, I'm more worried that I'll come off too strong and freak you out because I _really_ like you and I know it's stupid since we've known each other for… not even a full day." He set the wine bottle down, finally looking over, catching her gaze with his dark, brow pinched seriously. "I get how stupid and crazy and illogical it seems but I just feel like I've known you for so much longer and I want to… to be here—or wherever, I guess, with you. For as long as I can."

El blinked, frozen, trying to understand how he had put the feeling that had been gnawing at the back of her mind into words. Summed it up in a few sentences, as if she hadn't been caught in a maelstrom of worry and uncertainty all afternoon. Torn between knowing that it was too soon too quick too much… and not caring because he was just so _everything_. Everything she hadn't thought she wanted.

It took her a second but then she swallowed the shock, setting the parmesan down and turning to face him completely.

"Mike, that's… I mean—" They made eye contact and El felt her heart flutter, his face so uncertain but handsome and open and _attractive_. "I _get_ it. I didn't expect to meet anyone and then you're just… here. But I want you to be here. And I want to be here with you, feeding you truffle alfredo and being awkward. So if that's okay with you—"

"It is," he blurted, then flushed. "Sorry."

She couldn't help but grin. "So if that's okay with you, let's go have a picnic and stop worrying about the stuff that doesn't make sense."

"Yes. Please. Absolutely."

"Oh, um…" She had picked up their plates, starting to head out, but paused, keeping her back turned. "There's sort of a surprise for you and you'll figure it out so I won't say more, but this is a… warning."

"Wait, wh—"

She skipped out of the room with a giggle, glancing back at him to appreciate his look of confusion before heading out through the hallway that led to the front door and the living room. There was the shuffle of socks on hardwood floor behind her but she moved quickly and ran to the fireplace, setting their food on the white brick ledge that jutted up a few inches from the floor that the fireplace was built into. She turned just in time to see him walk in to the room.

His brow was knitted in confusion, but then shot up as the saw the decorated mantle she was standing in front off, greenery and holly berries strung across the front, the stockings hanging down. Santa sat in the middle, with lit red taper candles on either side, and then the cardinal figurines. Ornaments filled a potpourri bowl to the side, glistening in the firelight, and it was cozy and warm and _very_ Christmas, lacking a tree, but not really needing one.

He stared, speechless, holding their wine glasses in his hands, and El swallowed nervously, glancing behind her at the holiday display and then back at him, suddenly anxious.

"Um, last night at the bar, you said you hated this Christmas because you were spending it alone… and I know it's kind of presumptuous of me to assume that I could take the place of your friends and family but since you're not technically spending it alone…" She laced her fingers behind her back, standing awkwardly as he continued to stare, his gaze moving from the fireplace to her small figure standing before it. "I just… thought maybe you'd like it?"

"But… you hate Christmas," he said, brow creasing again. "Like for a good reason."

She shrugged, trying to ignore the fear, staring into his eyes, feeling her soul open, wanting to be honest. "I don't want to anymore."

There was five seconds and then he moved, setting the wine on the coffee table she'd pushed back and then he was in front of her, bending down to cup her face in his hands as he kissed her. It was fierce, but then softened, like there was some sort of desperate intensity and need that turned to gratitude, as his lips melded to hers, moving gently until she was able to react, reaching up to hold his hands as she kissed back. The sound of soft Christmas music and the crackle of the fire filled up the chilly room as the chemistry they'd built slowly spilled over into something more, something that took her breath away and made her pull back for air with a gasp.

When she did she said nothing, instead stepping closer and closing her eyes, resting her forehead against his as they both caught their breath.

For a moment they just stood there, letting the world fade away.

A loud growl startled them both, and El looked down at their feet for Gilbert before realizing it was Mike's stomach. It took half a second and she burst into laughter, stepping back as she snorted, reaching up to cover her face.

"Aw, come on!" He protested. "I'm hungry, how is that funny?"

"Because your stomach sounded just like my cat when he's pissed," she managed to get out between bouts.

"You have a cat?" He looked around excitedly. "Where?"

El laughed again, finding his enthusiasm endearing. Thank god, he seemed to like cats.

"Um… probably sleeping somewhere? He'll show up if he wants to be seen. His name is Gilbert, and he's a tuxedo so he's mostly black…" She glanced around, just in case he was lurking. "I promise I'll introduce you properly— _after_ you eat."

She stepped around him to grab their wine glasses, setting them next to their plates and then pulled some silverware from her back pocket and set that down too, so there were two, neat little place settings. Mike came closer, getting onto his knees as she did, scooting across the red, plaid blanket that covered the soft, cushiony rug beneath. It was very cozy, the heat from the fire warming her hands, the softness of the blanket beneath her knees, and Mike's hand on her waist as he settled in next to her.

When she turned to look at him, the soft glow in his eyes made her almost falter, an intensity she'd never seen before staring back at her. He drew her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead before sitting back.

"This is amazing, El. The food and the Christmas decorations…" A happy sigh left him. "It's just as good as being home."

"I'm glad. Now eat up," she teased, poking his sweater, "wouldn't want you wasting away."

The next half hour passed as they ate, sometimes in comfortable silence and at other times in earnest conversation while they briefly forgot their food. Mike mentioned multiple times how good it was, the truffle flavor mixing with the alfredo and the garlic masterfully.

"You're as good of a cook as my mom—and that's saying a lot," he'd grinned through his campanelle.

They'd finished their wine and he'd got up to grab the bottle, pouring another glass for each of them. She'd decided not to mention that chardonnay went better with alfredo, enjoying how happy and amazed he was at eating food that wasn't from a box or a bag. It had come out that while he could cook eggs pretty well, the majority of his dinners came from takeout or the freezer, which only made it more satisfying that she'd been able to make him something delicious and fresh.

It felt good to take care of someone again.

"—her meatloaf is probably the best ever, though," Mike was saying. "Like, my parents weren't happy but my mom never missed a meal. She… was the one who really took care of us. My dad made the money so we would have what we needed, but she was the one who went out and bought us clothes and food and cooked. I miss her sometimes."

"When was the last time you went home?"

"Well, last Christmas. But she was pretty hurt I wasn't staying at home with them so I only saw her on Christmas day," he admitted, shame-faced. "It's just hard to go back… but I probably should?"

"I would if I could. I still see Mama once or twice a year… my Aunt Becky is still mad at me for leaving her there, but I still try." It hurt to say it out loud and El couldn't help but wince. "It's messy but she's still my mom… so I try."

This time _he_ winced. "If you're trying to make me feel guilty, it's working."

"No!" She reached out and set a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "I didn't mean that—I just meant to share what works for me. If you miss your mom, it's up to you to decide if it's worth going home to see her. If home is that toxic of a place to be, then maybe you could find a way to bring her here, to you, outside of the environment that makes you uncomfortable?"

"She probably wouldn't leave Hawkins… but I appreciate the idea, El. Sorry if I made you feel bad," he mumbled, his hand finding hers and lacing their fingers, an act that was so… intimate, but comforting.

She couldn't help but move closer, leaving her empty dish behind as she let herself lean towards him, drawn in by his warmth and authenticity. He was like a book she didn't want to finish, an open soul so _vulnerable_ and willing. Where had he come from? How had he ended up here, so close to her, wanting to hold her hand and talk?

"It's okay. Maybe you don't need to avoid the environment maybe—" she ignored the sudden pounding of her heart in her ears, "maybe you just need someone to go with you and help you deal with it."

His eyes widened as he realized her meaning, and he looked down at their entwined hands, staring as he picked them, turning her hand over in his, like he was contemplating.

"Maybe I do…" He swallowed quickly. "El, I… I know we said we would just do whatever and not let it be weird, but I have to ask—is this going to keep happening? Can I ask you on another date? Do you want to come over and hang out sometime? Is that okay?" His hand grew clammy in hers. "I—I'm just nervous because I've never felt like this about anyone—Like, I didn't think I would be able to imagine a future with someone I've only known a day but I _can_. And I know it's too soon to say I _truly_ know you—but I _want_ to. I want to know everything, El, everything I can. About you."

He finally looked up, meeting her eyes, and she knew he wasn't lying to try and get laid or to take advantage of her or any other horrible thing the men from her past had done. There was nothing but honesty radiating out of the dark depths.

And she knew, right then, what she wanted.

"Yes, Mike, I—I want that too. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and never see you again," she breathed, her chest suddenly tight. "Last night, I thought maybe it would just be a one night thing, but the more time I spend with you, the more I know that's not what I want. And I want—" She squeezed her hand in his. "I want _you_."

"Last night I didn't know what to expect," Mike confessed, somehow moving closer, his lanky form encircling her until they were mere inches away from each other. "I just knew the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen was in front of me and she wanted to talk to me and she wanted _me_ to touch her and I knew I'd never want anything more in my life. And I'm so glad I didn't chicken out because you're gorgeous and you're so smart and you just—you get it, El. Even the stupid shit I don't understand, you do. And I don't know how I existed without having someone like you there."

His voice caught in his throat and El couldn't stand it, couldn't keep from closing the distance between them, finding his shoulders with her hands and pulling herself to him, getting up on her knees until her mouth found his and his arms wrapped her around her. He gasped against her lips, but it quickly turned into a moan as she crawled on top of him, straddling his skinny hips and dragging her hand up into his hair. His hands gripped her waist, fingers digging into her jeans as they kissed, all hunger and desire.

God she just _wanted_ him, so much, in every way. She knew she wasn't supposed to give in. Common sense said that keeping it physical could give the wrong impression.

His hand palmed her ass, pressing her flush against him, a moan leaving his lips.

Her body told her common sense to fuck off and she quickly grabbed the bottom of his sweater, tugging it up until he gave in and let her go long enough to pull it over his head. His lips found her neck and she let her head fall back as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses across her throat and then as far down as her shirt allowed him to go, his face pressed between her breasts before he pulled back for air. She grabbed the green long sleeve and ripped it up over her head, throwing it towards the couch as his hands pulled her back to him with a rude jerk, his hands finding the clasp of her red bra and quickly unsnapping it, plucking it off of her and tossing it over his shoulder towards the love seat.

"Mike," she breathed, the feel of her their bare chests pressing hotly together making her shiver as she buried her face against his neck, hips just starting to rock. "You feel so good."

His hand traced up her back until it found her mass of curls, stroking through them as he started to kiss down her neck again, gently tugging her head back until he had full access. It was slower then their previous night, needy and hungry, but less desperate. There was a different feeling, of certainty, the quiet promise in their words making it clear this wouldn't be the last time something like this happened.

There was more to come.

El keened as his lips found her nipple, latching on and teasing her with his tongue, his hand tweaking the other as she started to grind herself harder against him. His mouth was just as skillful as before, laving attention between both breasts until he had her whining, her hands pulling at his dark, wavy locks. God, he was so amazing, no wonder she couldn't resist him.

"I want you, El," he said as he pulled back, looking up at her. "I want you so much."

She could only kiss him again, letting her hands slide down his front until she found his pants, unbuckling his belt with a loud jangle and then the button, answering his unspoken question with her actions. It took a second for them to work the slacks down to his thighs so he could wiggle out of them, left in his boxer briefs that were straining to contain him, his arousal obvious as it rubbed against her own denim clad center.

His large hands found her jeans and he worked at them as they kissed again, all lips and tongue, until his fingers dug beneath the waistband and she moved off of him long enough to get out of them, left in nothing but the red thong she'd rather fortuitously decided to wear that day. His eyes drank in her mostly naked form as she crawled back towards him on all fours, biting her lip in a way she knew would drive him crazy.

"Come here," he growled, reaching with eager hands to drag her back into his lap.

He let his eyes and hands roam all over her, up her back, across her shoulders, down her sides and hips, grabbing her ass with a groan and pulling her harder down onto him, eyes falling shut in bliss as they began to rub against each other, finding a pace. God, he felt so good against her, even though they were just dry-humping like teens. She wrapped her arms up under his, so they were melded together, wanting to be as close as possible.

It wasn't close enough.

"Mike, I—" she gasped into his ear.

"I wanna feel you," he groaned back, finishing her sentence. "I _need_ you, El."

They both reached down at the same time, hands clashing, and then he was pulling his underwear down as she ripped the thong from her body, shuddering in relief to finally feel him totally bare. She realized she was soaking wet, even though they'd only been at it a few minutes and she'd intentionally told herself she wouldn't be having sex. Clearly her body knew otherwise, her attraction to him so strong he could make her a mess in mere minutes.

"Mmm, Mike," she moaned as he grabbed her hips and pulled her back down. "P-Put it in, I want to feel you fill me."

"Anything for you."

It was a whisper against her throat, but she didn't have too much time to think as she felt him press in, thick and delicious, filling her slowly as she sunk down. She couldn't help but pant, the feeling absolutely euphoric, of being so _full_ , of being so totally connected. There was a sting of pain, she knew she'd be sore, but luckily it wasn't so bad it was distracting and she let out a whine as she realized she was seared down on top of him, his entire length inside as their hips met.

"Jesus," she whined. "How does it _fit_?"

He was panting beneath her, chest heaving, and it took him a second to find words. "I guess it was meant for you."

It was the same sentiment she'd had last night and she couldn't help but lunge toward him, needing to kiss him and tell him she agreed, that their bodies were meant for each other just as much as their souls. She let her hips start to move, knowing his position would keep him from being able to do much but hold onto her, and he let out a sharp cry that turned into a grunt.

Being able to control the pace helped, and she clung to him, pressing her face to his as she began to ride him with abandon, loving the sounds he made, how they seemed to harmonize with her own cries and whimpers. He felt _perfect_ , just like he had before, bumping into that _one_ spot with each undulation of her hips, and she started to move in a circle, going more slowly, the sensuous rhythm starting to build a heat inside of her, low and so _hot_.

"Fuck, El, I could watch you ride my cock for the rest of my life," he grunted out. "You're so _hot_ , like the sexiest thing on the whole goddamn planet. Riding my cock like you were fucking born to do it."

" _Mike_ ," she cried out, his words like magic, making her even hornier, goosebumps raising on her flesh as she began to move more frantically. "Oh god, you feel so good!"

His hands found her hips and he helped her, keeping the pace she set as she started to falter, the blissful edge rapidly approaching with each movement. Her mouth latched onto his as she frantically fell apart on top of him, a high keening moan leaving her lips as she pulled back, shuddering, clenching until she was nothing but a sobbing mess in his arms, gushing down his cock as she came. He wrapped her in his arms, stopping completely as she buried her face in his neck, trembling and whimpering, unable to do anything but cling to him as she returned to her body, chest heaving against him.

It was so clear what she wanted, even more than this, and she closed her eyes, tucking as far into him as possible, feeling him still thick and heavy inside.

"Mike," she whispered urgently, feeling him bend his ear closer, so he could hear. It took her a second to find the courage to admit it, but she exhaled, hot against his sweaty neck. "I could fall in love with you, Mike. So easily. And I _want_ to. I want to love you."

It was too much, too serious _far_ too soon, and she immediately regretted her words, gasping.

"I'm sorry, that's—"

His hands left her waist to cup her face, forcing her to look at him before he kissed her, long and even and passionate, but somehow gentle at the same time. There was no fear or disgust or concern, only soft, quiet, certainty.

"I want to love you too. Maybe not today, or even tomorrow, but I want to. I want to have that with you, El. I want to try and be that for you."

"I want _you_ , Mike," she managed to get out, throat choked with emotion.

It had been so long, but the pain and disbelief and skepticism faded as she stared into his midnight eyes, knowing she could believe him. The loneliness and the hurt and the sadness was over, and she clutched him even more tightly as a wave of gratitude overtook, silent tears slipping down her face. He said nothing, only held her tightly, fingers playing with her curls, not even realizing what change she was going through as she accepted him fully into her life.

She was the one who moved first, ungluing herself from him and quickly wiping her eyes, pressing a kiss to his jaw. Her hands pushes against his chest and she increased the pressure until he took the hint and began to lean back, lowering until he was flat on his back. Her palms rested on him and she looked down at him as she began to move her hips, this time for him instead of herself, starting with rocking but quickly moving to a light bounce, knowing she couldn't give him everything yet, but that she could at least give him a toe-curling orgasm.

His hands stayed on her hips but then moved up to cup a breast, the other squeezing her ass, like he was trying to appreciate all of her all at once. Her paced stayed relaxed, but she allowed the intensity to pick up, pushing up higher and dropping down harder, over and over, listening to his breathing and his groans, the way he moaned her name as his hips began to chase hers, meeting her halfway with a loud slap.

"Mmm, oh god, oh yes," she whined, loving how he started to take control, his hands gripping hard enough to bruise. "Oh fuck, Mike, you fuck me so good. God, I love taking your cock—ah! Yes, oh god yes, give it to me, Mike! Ah, ah!"

Her squeals and cries filled the air as her forced to hold still, jamming his pulsing manhood up into her over and over and over, filling her up in a way that made her lose her mind. He could only grunt, eyes starting flutter shut as he found bliss inside of her once more, fingers digging into her soft skin as she tightened around him.

She reached down, rubbing herself, realizing just how close he was—and how close _she_ was.

"Mike! Oh fuck, Mike, you're gonna make me cum again, oh my god!" Her clit was _throbbing_ and she started to shake, legs seizing and trembling as he pounded up into her. "Please, I want to feel you cum inside of me, Mike!"

"I'm gonna give it to you so fucking good, El," he panted back. "Jesus, you feel so good when you squeeze my cock like that, fuck, El, cum for me, sweetheart."

" _Mike_!"

All of the sudden he let out a growl, and pulled her down onto him as hard as he could, making her see stars as propelled himself upright, using her momentum. His mouth crashed into hers, muffling the long moan that left her throat as she came again, only this time he let out a yell too, their bodies flush against each other as they climaxed in synch, one single pounding heartbeat echoing through their fingertips as they shared the greatest pleasure known to mankind.

El's mind was blanked out, every muscle tense before she went boneless in his arms, feeling her hands release his shoulders as he winced, her fingernails leaving behind crescent marks. Her muscles were still fluttering around him, the delicious aftershocks of their perfect coupling radiating through her.

She let her head fall against his shoulder, their sweaty chests heaving against each other, her curls a tangled mess. It felt right, just like it had before, to be so close to him, to feel grateful and happy and satiated. It was just _everything_.

He slumped onto his back rather suddenly and she let out a surprised gasp as she fell onto his chest, realizing he was exhausted as she felt. Carefully, she slid his softening cock from her body, feeling the wetness drip onto her thighs as she scooted up his long, lanky form to find his face, wanting to be cuddle him and feel him as close as possible as they lay in the afterglow of their—

She paused, considering the word that had come to her mind first, deciding it fit even what they had done last night as almost strangers.

They hadn't just had sex, she could see it now. The way he'd cared for her, had taken her needs into account and done everything in his power to make her feel good, just as much as she'd done for him?

God, it was cheesy sounding, but she knew without a doubt that it hadn't just been sex, that she had made love to him just as much as he had to her.

Was that even possible? To find that sort of chemistry and connection with a stranger? To be able to totally give oneself to another without even realizing it?

It was the only explanation, but she knew it was something she wouldn't be able to voice until later, when she was certain that it was true. Maybe in a few months, when they were something more official, and she was less worried. When the rest of the world caught up with them, their frantic need for each other matching the timeline that was considered reasonable.

And when that happened, she would tell him. Because if anyone deserved to know, it was Mike Wheeler, the nerdy, vulnerable bartender who had invited her into his life with such ease. Who made her feel safer than anyone she'd ever known, who seemed to need her as much as she needed him, who was honest and sincere.

With shaky hands, she lifted herself up, to press her lips to his and try to share the revelation he'd started in her soul. Wanting him to feel for just a second what she had just discovered.

It was a chaste kiss, not as long as some of the others they'd just shared, but full of _promise_. It was the beginning, not the end, an idea of what the future held, and he kissed back just strongly, seeming to understand the thought she shared before she pulled back with a secret smile on her swollen lips.

Settling back onto his chest, she let her ear rest against his sternum, listening to the strong, even beat of the heart she knew she would protect until her last breath. The one she knew was already hers, that she would hold safely with her, if not quite now, then soon.

"Mike?"

"Hm?"

"Merry Christmas."

It was the most simple and common of phrases, but she felt him tense beneath her, knowing what it mean to her to say those words. To let go of the past and hold onto the future, the living breathing future pressed to her cheek. She was done hating the time of year that had taken so much from her, deciding that it had given the best present of all.

A new home.

A gentle handle caressed her back, soft lips finding the top of her head long enough to press a kiss before falling back, pulling her even closer. She closed her eyes, letting the comfort of him fill her as his voice buzzed in her ear.

"Merry Christmas, El."

* * *

 ** _AN:_**

 ** _It's the end of this story, but not the end of these two! I've really fallen in love with their story and I've got a few more ideas for one-shots with them as well as sequel, a variety of story and smut so hopefully something for all of you._**

 ** _Thanks for giving this story a chance! I didn't expect it to get as much notice as it has, and I've appreciated every one of your reviews and thoughts and comments. They help me so much._**

 ** _Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!_**

 ** _~SP_**


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